To Swear Upon a Rose
by LiveOutLoud382
Summary: Rose Weasley has spent her life living in the shadows of giants. Albus Potter wants nothing more than to make those giants proud. As they begin Hogwarts, they discover that life is full of gray areas, particularly with Scorpius Malfoy, and the darker undertones that follow in suit. But there's a great evil stirring, and Rose is determined to put a stop to it...no matter the cost.
1. The Shadows of Giants

There's a fine line, Rose Weasley decided, between carving your own destiny and forcing a path that isn't your own. Knowing this, she had decided long ago that any future she would have would be one of her own creation, based upon her own likes and desires and hopes and ambitions. Not in any way would they be similar to anyone else's. This included family.

"Ronald Billius Weasley! If you don't get out of bed _this instant,_ I swear –"

" _Bloody hell,_ woman, you sound like my mum!"

"Is that such a _bad_ thing?"

"…yes!"

"Hmph."

"If you tell her I said that, 'Mione, I'll –"

"You'll _what?_ If I tell her, you'll _what,_ Ron?"

"Nothing."

"That's what I thought."

She had learned at an early age that if you were born with the last name "Potter" or "Weasely", in a similar way if you were a "Malfoy" or a "Goyle", your entire life was composed of the shadows of giants. Great, towering giants that swallowed your entire being up before you even had a chance to run.

"But I wanna go to _Hogwarts!"_

"Three more years, my angel. Then you can go."

"But I wanna go now, Mummy!"

"I know you do, but – "

" _'_ _MIONE? I CAN'T FIND HUGO'S KNICKERS!"_

"Why don't you go find Rose, sweetie? Tell her breakfast is ready. _FOR GOD'S SAKE, RON, ARE YOU A WIZARD OR WHAT –"_

Oh, you're a Potter? _The_ Harry Potter? Wow, he's amazing…

Oh, you're a Weasley? As in, _the_ Weasleys? You're so lucky…

Meeting new people was the worst part. There was a sort of ashamed realization that washed over their face once you revealed your dreaded last name. A name can be a powerful thing – it can strike fear, awe, or something in between without any pretext.

In fact, that's why Rose had enjoyed Muggle school so much. At her mother's insistence, she attended a local elementary school to get a strong footing in reading, writing, arithmetic, and of course, submerge herself in Muggle culture the way her mother had been raised. There, the name "Rose Weasley" meant nothing. _Oh, Rose? That smart kid in my class? She's pretty nice,_ instead of, _Rose Weasley?! Granger and the ginger's kid?_

And so Rose Weasley was set out to find her destiny. Away from her parents, away from her uncles and aunts, away from all of the greatness that was expected of her…and closer to whom she really was.

And who was that? So far: a bright, stubborn, competitive, brutally honest, Quidditch-obsessed ginger girl.

This was her year to carve away all that was expected of her and become her own person.

If only she could make it through the first day of school.

There was a knock at Rose's door. Putting away her book she had been engrossed in ( _Hogwarts, A History_ ), she opened the door to discover her eight year-old brother Hugo standing there. His red curls nearly covered his eyes, as his hair grew like weeds despite haircuts, and his small arms were folded. He frowned.

"Mummy says you need to come down for breakfast," he told her importantly.

Trying not to smile at his dead-pan sass, Rose folded her arms in the same position and asked the only question worth asking, "What's on TV?"

"The Chudley Cannons game."

Rose wrinkled her nose, pondering on whether or not Quidditch was worth leaving the beautiful solitude of her room. The answer came quickly.

"I'll be there in a minute!" she told him. As her brother turned to leave, she called, "Hugo?"

He looked back at her.

"When you get to Hogwarts, what house do you want to be in?"

Hugo thought deeply for a moment, and then answered honestly, "Ya know…I think I wanna be a Seeker."

As he skipped off to breakfast, Rose held back a snort. Now, she wasn't the type to usually snort, but from the nervousness of her first day and the exhaustion from being up all night studying, she just wasn't herself.

 _Yeah, I'll just be in Quidditch,_ Rose agreed. _Forget classes and actual education – I'll tell the Sorting Hat I would much rather drop out and play Quidditch!_

If only.

Just as she turned to place her book in her trunk, a large tawny owl flew in through the window and dropped a yellow letter onto Rose's bed. It was Lancelot, Albus's owl.

Rose gave the owl a bit of toast left from her late-night snacking and sent him on his way. Eagerly tearing open the note from her best friend and cousin, she read:

 _Rosie –_

 _Meet you at the platform…Mum's a wreck, blubbering about how we're all growing up, and Dad's doing a decent job at keeping her steady, though I don't think he's noticed his shirt's on backwards yet…blame it on James…_

 _Honestly? I'm terrified. What about you?_

 _Oh and Mum says to tell your dad that he better not use the car this time. The flying one, I mean._

 _See you soon – and don't forget change for the trolley!_

 _Your cousin and most trusted advisor and bestest friend,_

 _Albus_

 _P.S. Do NOT correct my grammar. I am well aware "bestest" is not a word._

Rose smiled. Blame it on Muggle schooling; she _was_ a bit of a grammar Nazi. Or blame it on genetics.

Rose grabbed a pen and paper and quickly jotted an answer back.

 _Al –_

 _Bloody hell, buy a dictionary! And yes, I'll tell Dad. (Doubt he'll listen, though.)_

 _"_ _Terrified" doesn't cover it. We'll talk on the train – I've made up my mind about something. Promise you won't be mad…?_

 _Your cousin and BEST friend,_

 _Rose_

Sealing the envelope, she reached beside her bed and unlatched her large bird cage. Inside, slept her birthday present, Juno, her brown barn owl. Tapping the cage a few time to wake him, her owl glared sleepily at her, angry to be disrupted in much-needed sleep. But today was so ordinary day, and there were things to do. So she handed him the envelope (and a toasty bribe) and set him on his way.

Before heading downstairs, Rose did a final look-over in the mirror. Hair…mostly tidy. Shirt…mostly unwrinkled. She never considered herself "beautiful", despite Al's protesting, but in her mind, she was decent enough. And if "decent-looking" could make her Head Girl, so be it.

Today, her usually-untamable fiery hair fell loosely at her shoulders. Trying to control the usual frizz, she slid in a few pins to keep it out of her face, but the attempt was just that – an attempt.

As Rose walked out of her room and down the stairs, her mind was fogged with fears about the Sorting. Your house is your family – it defines you. It shapes who you associate with, what you value, and your habits for the next seven years. It was almost terrifying to think that by simply reading an eleven year-old's mind, you could stick them in a particular group, forever affecting them.

Gryffindor would be an expectation. Why wouldn't she be in Gryffindor?

Slytherin would be the very opposite, a horrible surprise.

Hufflepuff was a joke – for her, at least.

And then…

Was there even an option? Or was her Sorting simply a condemnation?

Her mother had already lain out a fabulous array of breakfast on the table. The aroma was practically ambrosia – omelets, toast, pumpkin juice, marmalade, and muffins – and Rose knew the reason for all of this grandeur: her mother was trying to use food to get her mind off the Sorting.

 _She knows me too well,_ Rose thought, grinning at the feast in front of her. Without any other family members present, she sat down and began plowing through an omelet.

Just then, a tall, red-headed man came out of the master bedroom. There was a large amount of goop on his hair, in a desperate attempt to look polished. He had a slight belly, as most men of his age did, and was wearing a suit and button-down shirt. He stretched and yawned, taking a seat across from Rose.

"Morning," Rose greeted her father cheerfully, but her optimism was rebuked.

"It's eight in the morning. _Eight o'clock_ in the morning! Does it really take three hours to get ready?" Ron Weasley side as he spread some marmalade on a piece of toast. "Your uncle Harry and I were up until two in the morning, chasing after some bloke who decided it would be funny to cast the Dark Mark in a Muggle super market. Ended up being some idiot Hogwarts drop-out. Pass the coffee?"

Rose reached across the table and handed her father the pot of black coffee her mother had prepared.

" _Coffee?_ You never drink coffee, Ron."

Just then, Hermione Granger entered the room. She wore a blazer and skirt, her hair tucked into a neat bun. Rose inhaled sharply, wondering how her mother could be an early-forty-something and still look so beautiful. She noticed her father took note of this, too, by the glint in his eyes.

"Well, when you're chasing juvenile delinquents 'til past midnight, you find it extremely difficult to stay perky," he argued. Then, his frown softened into a small smile, and looking at his wife, he added, "You look lovely, 'Mione."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but she couldn't wipe the grin off her face.

Hugo came running into the room, a green dinosaur in his hand. He took a seat beside his sister, and announced excitedly, "The Cannons won, Daddy!"

Ron's drooping eyes lifted at these words. "They did?" he said, almost disbelieving. He stood up from the table, invigorated. "They _did?"_

Rose's eyes filled with utter joy. "They won, Dad! _They bloody won!"_

Scooping up his son and placing him on his shoulders, Ron danced about the room, yelling random team chants and jingles, Hugo giggling all the way. Rose jumped along beside them, laughing so hard that her side hurt. Hermione, too, couldn't help but chuckle at their over-excitement. It was no secret that the Chudley Cannons weren't exactly the _greatest_ Quidditch team of all time, but they meant the world to those three.

Finally, it was time to settle down. "Alright, alright, sit down you three – before your father pulls something."

"Aurors don't just _pull things,_ " Ron defended, sitting down. "Now, I can how someone with a boring office job might –"

"Excuse me, Ronald, but I think being head of the department of Magical Law Enforcement might be a bit more than just another office job," Hermione cut him off.

Ron just scoffed. "And you used to laugh at the idea of being a lawyer."

"Things change. For instance, your father's waist in the past three years has –"

"Not funny, 'Mione!"

But Rose and Hugo continued to giggle as they ate their food. They were always like this – bantering and teasing, but it was their love language, Rose had discovered. Every nagging comment about weight or career was an "I love you."

The laughter faded as bellies filled. Rose began staring intently at her pumpkin juice, which did not go unnoticed by her mother.

"You're worried," she pointed out.

"Well, can you blame me? My whole life, defined in one day…" Rose let out, frantic.

"Your whole life isn't going to be defined in one day –!" Ron began, but his wife stopped him.

"Well you're one to talk. You were practically green during the entire ceremony!" Hermione noted. Ron sunk in his chair.

She continued, "But honey, the Sorting is nothing to be so concerned about. Every house has its good attributes and it's bad, so really, you have four great options!"

"Except Slytherin," Ron interjected, without looking up from _The Daily Prophet._ "Unless you want to sell your soul to the devil, and –"

"Ron!" Hermione objected. "Be supportive!"

Ron said nothing, sheepishly taking a swig of coffee.

"But…I thought Rosie was doing Quidditch?" Hugo asked, lost as to where the conversation was heading.

"I am," Rose said, raising her eyebrow.

"So what about Slytherin and stuff?" he continued.

"Those are _Houses."_

"Well, _yeah,_ but what about Quidditch?"

"That's…not a House."

"It isn't it?"

"Nope."

"But there are four of them! Gryffindor, Slytherin, the Chudley Cannons, and Quidditch!"

"Hugo, no –" But after a look from her mother, Rose sighed and rested her case.

Hugo just smiled proudly, thinking he'd won.

In many ways, Hugo reminded Rose of herself – stubborn, even if totally incorrect, insistent, and competitive. It was the Weasley genes, she was sure.

But that reminded her of another worry – Quidditch try-outs. From the time Rose could walk, her father had put her on her toy broom and watched her fly it higher than all the other kids – fearless and quick. Over the years, she practiced more and more, until she graduated to a Cleansweep, then a Nimbus Two Thousand, then a Firebolt, and for her eleventh birthday, a Cosmo, the fastest broom in the world. If she could become Keeper…her mind was soon lost in vain fantasies filled with trophies, fans, and the sweet taste of victory.

Her visions of Quidditch were rudely interrupted by her mother: "9:00! We'd better get in the car. I mean, with traffic, and of course Rose will want to find a good seat…" Her eyes drifted to her husband. "…so Ron, why don't I grab her trunk and you start up the car?"

"You got it," he said, smiling, "don't worry, Rosie, you'll be the most popular kid in Hogwarts when your dad flies you in, and –"

"Oh God, no, not the Ford," Hermione stopped him. Rose let out a silent sigh of relief. "The Beetle."

Ron nearly choked on his coffee. "You – you want _me_ to – to drive the normal car –?"

Hermione didn't flinch. "Well, of course. After all, you did get your license last week, so you're practically an expert…right?"

"Oh – oh yeah. Definitely," said a flushed Ron Weasley. "Let me – uh – go and…start it up…"

As Ron got up and ran outside, Rose could see the smirk on her mother's face. Hermione sighed.

"He thinks I don't know," was all she said, and with a _hmph_ , she headed upstairs to levitate her daughter's trunk.

Ten minutes later, Ron sat nervously behind the wheel, Hermione beside him, and Rose and Hugo in the back. Juno's cage and her trunk were stuffed inside, and trying not to scream, Ron cranked up his _Weird Sisters_ CD and drove off.

 _Let me get past today,_ Rose silently prayed, _just today._


	2. Continuous Collisions

Rose closed her eyes, doing the math in her head:

 _Three almost-wrecks…subtract the one where Mum wasn't looking…one actual dent…two flat tires…_

She could laugh about it now, standing near the entrance to Platform 9 ¾, but at the time it had been anything _but_ funny. Her mother's pursed lips as she tried so hard not to scold her husband – Hugo's insistent questions on why Daddy didn't just confund them – her father arguing over traffic rules he didn't even know – her dull headache from all the stress…

But she was here now. And that was all that mattered.

Kings Cross was as crowded as ever. Swells of people came in and out, moving almost like trains themselves. It was a funny thing, Rose often noted, of how something so incredibly magical was just under their noses, and yet they never suspected a thing. Ignorance is a strange and powerful thing, but she couldn't decide if it was for better or for worse.

Scanning the crowd for her cousins, Rose stood on her tip-toes, doing anything possible to give her an advantage. But her father spotted them before she did.

"There they are!" he announced, walking through the crowd. Rose and Hugo followed in suit, their mother guiding them so they wouldn't be trampled.

The steam cleared, and before her she saw her uncle Harry, Aunt Ginny, Lily, James, and her best friend in the world, Albus.

As she came toward them, she caught a bit of the current conversation:

"– but I won't be in Slytherin! I won't!"

"Oh, you're right. Who am I kidding? Winnie the Whiner here'll probably land in _Hufflepuff._ " James said the last word with utter disdain.

"Bugger off, will you?" Rose told her older cousin as she approached them. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her father hug Uncle Harry and her mother and Aunt Ginny chatting away. Looking at Albus, she said cheerily, "Hey."

"Hi," said Albus, relieved that she was here to spare him.

James glanced up, looking amused. "Well, well, well, isn't it little Rosie? Better pray that _you_ don't end up in Slytherin…we need you for Quidditch. _Desperately._ Have you seen Finnigan play? It's the scariest thing I've seen since Teddy went through puberty."

Rose rolled her eyes. "And when was the last time you caught a snitch? February 31st?"

While her cousin tried to figure out her comment, she turned to Al. "How're you feeling?"

"Sickly," Albus managed.

Her cousin had grown his black hair longer than when she'd last seen him. Somehow, he looked older this way. He had his father's green eyes – in fact, he would've been a spitting image of him if it weren't for the glasses and scar.

When they were little, they'd go and attack garden gnomes at their grandparents'. For hours on end, they'd throw rocks at the devilish creatures until it came time for dinner. Then, she'd sneak into his room late at night, and they'd stay up, talking, chatting, discussing, and dreaming.

Al was there for her when Dad was being impossible, when her mother was being stubborn, Dominique was in her own little world, when Hugo and Lily were off playing, when James and Fred were off pranking, and when Victoire, like usual, was off somewhere with Teddy. He told her things he would never even admit to his parents. She knew him inside and out – what he was afraid of and what he loved. She knew that no matter how hard she looked, she would never find a better friend than he.

"You're going to be _fine,_ Al," she said, though she had trouble believing it herself. "What does your dad say?"

Al put his hands in pockets. "He says it doesn't _matter,_ that great people have been in both, my namesakes, etc., etc."

Rose raised an eyebrow. "And you believe him?"

He shook his head. "No way. He wants me to be in Gryffindor – I know he does. But he's my _dad_ – he just won't say it."

"I mean, I don't know. I think he's serious, Al –"

"Maybe. But for _you,_ Rosie _…"_ said Ron Weasley, intervening, "…if you're not in Gryffindor, we'll disinherit you. No pressure."

" _Dad!"_

 _"_ _Ron!"_

 _"_ _Ronald!"_

While everyone around them laughed heartily, Al and Rose could only look at each other with solemn faces. One of the most important moments of their lives now loomed over them like a giant storm cloud.

"I WANNA RUN THROUGH THE BRICK WALL!" Hugo cried, running up to them with utter exhilaration on his face.

Soon enough, Lily, who was his same age, joined him, crying, "Please! Please! _Please!"_

Aunt Ginny couldn't help but laugh. "Fine, then. It's nearly eleven anyway – oh, and Ron, how was the trip here? Heard it was…exciting."

Hermione covered her mouth to keep from laughing, as her husband received his sister's blows. His cheeks matched his hair.

"There – there was something wrong with the car. Must've been a…a radiator problem…or…something," he stammered, but his wife looked unconvinced.

Harry Potter walked behind his son and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. He had just begun to grow a few strands of gray near his temples, but other than that, showed no other signs of age. There was a new scar, though, beside his lip. In Ron and Harry's line of work, such mysterious scars were common, and no one dared ask their stories.

"Ready?" he asked Albus.

Al shook his head slowly. He glanced once more at Rose, who gave a nervous smile. Then, with his father's help, they pushed his cart through the brick wall, vanishing from sight.

Lily and Hugo, giggling, sprinted behind them. Then it was James, who proceeded to moon-walk through, and then his mother.

Ron and Hermione looked at their daughter, their pride and joy. It was an odd thing – to see history repeat itself. And yet, here she was, both terrified and excited to begin her journey at Hogwarts. Ron looked and saw a sliver of the young boy who felt so badly the pressure to be in Gryffindor, and Hermione could swear she saw a dash of the girl who had wanted so badly to prove herself, to be a part of it all. Someone had been there to help them through, and now, they had to be there for her.

"Rose?" Hermione asked her daughter.

"Yes?" she replied, tearing her eyes away from the wall.

"No matter what house you're in, no matter what you do, I _know_ you will make us proud. You're the brightest witch of your age."

"'Weasley is our queen'," Ron added, reminiscing.

Hermione nodded, smiling. "You are going to do amazing things – some may be crazy, maybe even a bit dangerous –"

"– oh, but not _too_ dangerous. Hate to ruin your Quidditch arm." Ron winked.

"You're our daughter, and we love you. No matter what happens, we love you. Never forget that. And if you work hard, everything else will fall into place. You know how I know?"

Rose felt her voice quiver. "How?"

Hermione bent down and gently kissed her on the head. "You're you."

Looking up at her mother, Rose felt an admiration she had never felt before wash over her.

"Ready then?" Ron asked.

Rose nodded, and the three disappeared through the wall.

0o0o0

There was a strange tingling sensation – darkness – and then suddenly, Rose was standing on Platform 9 ¾. She had been here so many times already – seeing Teddy, Victoire, Dominique, James, Molly, Lucy, Fred, and Roxanne off – but this time, it felt so much different. This time, she would be the one boarding the train. This time, she would be the one venturing into the unknown.

All of them had become Gryffindors. Not a single one had fallen out of place. Molly had been a Hat Stall, taking forever to choose between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, but eventually settled on the latter. Other than that, the Potter-Weasley fate was sealed. Or was it?

The three joined the Potters, who were all huddled around Albus, giving words of encouragement. Rose wished Al could bring himself to believe his dad – she knew how badly he didn't want to let him down. The two were very close, and disappointing the Boy Who Lived was the last thing Al wanted to do.

Al had always felt that he had something to prove. Maybe it was because of his parents, maybe it was because of his brother, or maybe it was just him. Rose honestly didn't know. Al's insistence that he was unworthy was the one mystery of him that Rose couldn't crack.

Rose began to run toward Al and the Potters, hoping to join in their conversation and avoid another awkward one with her parents. But steering the large cart was difficult, the owl cage slid and blocked her view and then –

 _BAM._

Her cart overturned, slamming into another, and Rose Weasley fell to the ground.

Nothing physically hurt, but her pride did. Rose immediately yelled out, "Watch it!"

She began frantically picking up fallen books and placing Juno's cage back on the cart. Another pair of hands joined her in the clean-up.

"You should really be more careful, you know," said a new voice.

Rose finally glanced up to see who she had collided with. He was a thin boy, with blonde hair that was parted to the side in a strangely perfect manner, and had a long, pale face. His eyes were a piercing blue, but what astounded her most was what was in those eyes –somehow managing to seem reckless and sincere at the same time. For the first time in her life, Rose Weasley failed to figure someone out.

Like Rose, he was already his in robes. Standing a few yards behind him were two adults with similar features, most likely his parents. The man had the same blonde hair and blue eyes, but they were colder than his son's, more intense. The woman had brown curls, but his same pale skin, nose, and mouth. She, too, had an intense look about her. Both were wrapped in a deep conversation, not even noticing their son or the crash.

"I'm fine. Thank you," said Rose curtly, trying not to make eye contact.

"Just trying to help!" said the boy defensively.

"Well, you could be of _more_ help if you didn't run into people, it's rude," Rose said stubbornly.

"Oh, _I_ ran into _you?"_ the boy repeated sarcastically.

"Yes. Yes, you did."

"When I was just minding my business, and you were the one sprinting down the platform with a cart?"

"I wasn't _sprinting."_

"Rushing, then."

"Rose! Are you alright?" called her father, running up to her and inspecting the crash.

As he bent to help his daughter with her fallen books, Hermione's eyes landed on the boy. "And who is this?" she asked curiously.

Before he could answer, a loud, booming voice came over the intercom: " _BOARDING WILL BEGIN IN TEN MINUTES, I REPEAT, TEN MINUTES."_

"We should hurry," Rose told her parents. She turned back to face the boy. "And you –"

But he was already gone.

"Who was he?" Hermione wondered.

"No idea," Rose replied. She had a funny feeling about that kid.

Her mother was deep in thought. "You know who he looked like –"

"No," said Ron, knowing where she was going, "can't be."

Hermione squinted into the distance. Her eyes drifted towards the boy's two parents by the train, and they widened.

"It is!" she announced, nudging her husband.

Ron looked past his daughter, his eyes widening as well. "Bloody hell, you're right! It's the little Malfoy spawn!"

" _Ron,"_ Hermione scolded him, slapping his arm. "They've changed."

He played with the idea for a moment, but decided against it. Kneeling down to look directly at his daughter, he told Rose, "Beat him at every test, okay? Thank God you inherited your mother's brains…"

"Ron!"

"What? I'm being _supportive!"_

Rose looked up at her parents quizzically, but before she could ask anything, an arm suddenly stretched out in front of her face, a large flyer clutched in its hand.

 _"_ CORRUPTION IN THE MINISTRY! PURIFY OUR RACE!"

Rose doubled back. The arm holding the flyer belonged to a young man, about twenty, who was clutching a stack of odd papers and calling out like a newspaper boy. Though she wasn't able to read the whole title, she caught the words _"new generation"_ and _"mudblood"._

He wore a black robe that looked two sizes too big and had straggly, sand-colored hair that fell in curls. He could've been handsome if it weren't for his obvious lack of hygiene.

"MUDBLOODS! HALF-BLOODS! SQUIB FILTH!"

Soon enough, her mother's arms were around her, ripping her daughter away from the man, who continued to hand out papers to any unsuspecting passerby. He then turned and held one towards the Weasleys.

Ron squinted at the young man for a moment, and then his eyes glinted with recognition. "I know you! You're the kid we picked up this morning!"

The boy dropped his arm, a sour look on his face. "Thanks for that, by the way."

"And they let you _go?"_ Ron asked, disbelieving. "That quickly?"

"Like I'm saying, corruption! Greed! Power!" he shouted again, directing his words to the crowd about him. "Tried me as a minor. Said it was an accident, just goofing off. Crazy, huh?"

Ron's eyes dropped down at the papers. A scowl came over his face, as his voice filled with disdain. "Yes. Crazy."

There was a pause. The boy saw this as a business opportunity. He extended one of his papers towards Hermione. "Flyer?"

Hermione only glared at the boy, a hardened look coming over her face. Her voice was strong and clear: "Yes, please."

Both Ron and Rose whipped their heads toward her, not believing their ears.

"But, Mom –"

"Shut up, kid," the boy said quickly. He shuffled his papers. "How many?"

Hermione's eyes and voice remained strong and void of emotion. "All of them."

The boy looked like he had just won the lottery, as he eagerly handing her the stack in his hands. When he smiled, Rose noticed a golden tongue piercing. She then looked up at her mother, waiting for her next move.

For a moment, Hermione said nothing, reading over the vile words on the page. Then in a flash, she whipped out her wand, pointed it at the flyer, and spoke in a clear voice, " _Reducto!"_

There was a _boom_ , and the tall stack of papers was gone. Bits of parchment drifted down like snow, but no other evidence remained. The boy clenched his teeth, looking at Hermione as if he had just seen the devil himself.

"You –" He began, but she beat him to it.

"The next time you come around here with that kind of propaganda, more than those papers will be destroyed, and I will personally escort you to Azkaban. Do I make myself clear?"

Rose gaped at her mother. She heard her father whisper, _That's my girl._

The young man only snorted. "Oh yeah? And who are you?"

"Hermione Granger."

"Oh _sh_ –"

"And you are?"

Rubbing his temples, the boy managed, "A-Andrew Smelting."

"Well, Mr. Smelting. I hope we won't be meeting again," Hermione said curtly, her confidence never once wavering.

The boy took one last hateful look at her and stormed away, bits of parchment still falling from the air behind him.

"Mom – that was amazing!" Rose exclaimed when he was out of sight.

Her mother gave her a small smile, but her eyes had a haze of worry to them. After nodding to her husband, they continued to make their way to the Potters. Rose felt an unsettling knot in her stomach.

Al came bounding toward her. "Hey, Rose, what took so –" He saw Ron lean over and whisper into Harry's ear. They both had grave faces. Al turned back to his cousin. "What happened?"

"Some guy," Rose tried to explain what little she knew, "was advertising some purist propaganda. I –I don't understand the whole bit, but it seems like he's trying to reboot the Death Eaters."

Al's eyes widened. "But – but you don't think he could actually –"

"I don't know," Rose said. "Maybe, but I just don't know."

Boarding the train in the distance, she caught sight of the Malfoy boy, with his blue eyes and quick tongue. He took a deep breath and stepped inside, his parents waving.

 _Who does he think he is?_ She wondered. _What's his deal?_ But every time she was near a possible answer, her own words came echoing back to her: _I don't know…I just don't know…_


	3. A Smile Nevertheless

As the train lurched forward, Rose's heart did, too. With a puff of steam, the great vessel began slowing rolling forward. Her family, who had been waving to Albus and her as they departed, was soon succumbed by the thick vapor and vanished from sight.

For a moment, Rose could've sworn she was in another land – the world around her made up of never-ending walls of smoke, the scarlet red of the train shining in the light from where she stood by the window, and Albus beside her, genuinely smiling for the first time today. It was a start, if anything, and certainly a good one.

As the steam dissolved into the air and Kings Cross became farther and farther away, Rose's turmoil returned. But for Al's sake, she would keep quiet…for now. He seemed to feel better, and she wasn't about to ruin it for him.

"Let's find a seat," Rose suggested.

Al nodded, and the two set their trunks away and began down the hall.

"Oh!" Al realized, turning to his cousin. "In your letter, you mentioned something about needing to tell me something…? About me not being mad…?"

Rose bit her lip. She had been hoping that he had forgotten.

"I…I don't want to be in Gryffindor, Al," she admitted. "I really don't."

"What?!"

"I just…if I end up there, I'll just be another link in the Potter-Weasley chain. I want to make a name for myself, on my own terms, through my own accomplishments."

"Well, you do all that…but in _Gryffindor!_ " Albus tried.

"You don't get it." Rose sighed, looking away.

Al met her gaze. "Look – I get the 'wanting to be your own person' thing. I do. But I always pictured us hanging in the common room together, proudly wearing our red and gold, telling our kids about the good old days in the den of the mighty lion!"

"I'm sorry, Al," Rose told him sincerely. "But if I'm given the choice, I'm going somewhere else. Anywhere else. I'm sorry."

Now, it was Al's turn to sigh. Rose offered an apologetic look, but he distracted himself by continuing their search for a seat.

Much to her annoyance, Rose discovered that not only was every compartment full of upperclassmen, but some genius had decided it would be best for them all to _spread out._ Meaning, one compartment could have only two people in it, who were dashing out all the time anyway to visit their friends in _another_ compartment.

Rose's face flustered as her annoyance grew after countless compartments. It must've shown, because Al said aloud, "Breathe, Rosie. Breathe."

As she turned to step into a second car, her face collided with something tall and hard.

"Rosie! The Slytherin!" cried James, his cousin and best friend Fred behind him. Fred had coffee-like skin, brown eyes, and a lop-sided grin.

The two were constantly causing trouble at Hogwarts – dubbing them with the title "Fred Jr. and George Jr." after the famous original Weasley twins, George Weasley actually being Fred Jr.'s father. Just last year, the night before a big Transfiguration project was due, they had snuck into Hogsmeade, somehow stolen a goat, and the next day, James walked around school with the goat on a leash, swearing that it was actually _Fred,_ and that their project had gone horribly wrong. Meanwhile, Fred ditched school spent the day drinking butter beer at the Three Broomsticks. How they knew how to get in and out of the school so secretively, James had never told Albus…needless to stay, they were nearly expelled, but were pardoned after learning that the goat had originally been a cat, and the pair had actually done some genuine magic.

"Don't. Call. Me. That!" Al said, fuming. His brother only laughed.

Rose ignored his idiocy and asked, "Can we sit with you two? Everywhere else is full."

James looked as though he'd just been slapped. Scratching his head sheepishly, he explained, "Well, you see…we're a bit preoccupied at the moment…with…stuff…"

Fred jumped in, trying to save his partner-in-crime's arse. "What he _means_ to say is that our compartment's already full. You know, adoring fans, groupies, and such."

Rose wasn't convinced, but it didn't seem like these two would compromise. "Fine," she said in a stiff voice. "But can you at least –"

"Whoa, whoa, wait. _Look!"_ said Fred, whispering and pointing down the hall, all the way to the end of the last cart. It took her a moment to realize what he was fussing over – there was the blonde boy from earlier. He set his bags down in an empty compartment and took a seat. He no longer smirked – much like Al, he just looked…well…scared.

"Ah, there's the Malfoy kid," James explained, smirking. "Careful – I hear he's been in Death Eater training since he could walk."

Fred snickered, high-fiving his cousin.

"'Yes, son, remember to keep an open mind! Things have changed since the War, Death Eater or not!'" Al mimicked his father in a deep voice. Rose tried hard not to grin.

"Dad's an old softie," dismissed James. "And besides, what else can you expect from a Malfoy?"

He only brought one suitcase, which he shoved in the above compartment. Sitting down, he glanced around anxiously to the other compartments. No one met his eye, so he resorted to pulling out a book he had carried with him. Squinting, Rose read the title – _Hogwarts: A History._

 _My favorite_ , Rose thought. She suddenly felt an enormous wave of pity for the boy. Though he had been so cocky earlier, here he was, all alone in the back of a train car, his only companion a book.

"More than you can from a Potter, apparently," Rose snapped back. "Come on, Al." She began to strut down the hall.

"Wait –" Al said quickly. "You're not going to –"

"– yes, I am," Rose answered. "Now, you can choose to come along and meet someone new, or you can stick around with your dear brother and his compadre and get kicked out of Hogwarts before you can even be Sorted."

Albus looked quickly from Rose to the boys and back to Rose again. James and Fred gave jackal grins, waving and fluttering their eyelashes flamboyantly. Sighing heavily, Al turned and followed Rose.

"Good luck!" Fred called to them, laughing.

"Wouldn't mention that last name if I were you!"

Rose just rolled her eyes, but Al looked genuinely nervous. As they approached the compartment, Rose gave him a quick synopsis of how she had met him earlier.

"– he's quick, smart. Be careful…but a bit too cocky for his own good. Don't take a lot time to answer anything; he'll think he won," she told him.

"Good to know," Al nodded, swallowing hard.

They finally reached the door. Nodding to her begrudging cousin, Rose knocked a few times on the compartment door post. The boy looked up from his book, startled.

"Um – hi," Rose began, trying to smile. "I'm Rose. I think we met earlier? You know…" She mimed their collision.

Two and two came together. "The cart girl!" Malfoy realized. "How've you been? Long time, no see."

Rose shrugged, going along with it. "Oh, a little internal bleeding, but nothing too serious," she replied.

Malfoy laughed, rolling his eyes. "Right."

"Can we sit?" Rose asked, gesturing to the seat across from him.

The Malfoy kid looked at her for a moment, his eyes not trusting what she was saying. Very cautiously, he muttered, "Sure…?"

She took it as a resounding 'yes'. Albus and she came in and sat down across from him. As her cousin took his seat, she realized, "Oh! And this is Albus."

"Hey," Al offered feebly, extending his hand.

Malfoy took it, asking, "Like the headmaster? Minus the beard?"

Al shrugged, grinning. "Actually, I'm have a little stubble right on my upper lip –"

"– yeah, no, you don't. So, what house are you hoping for?" Rose asked the new boy quickly, ferociously crushing her best friend's facial hair dreams forever.

There was an odd pause. Rose had been expecting a certain immediate answer, and the boy knew this, she could tell, from the way his eyes shifted from teasing to almost melancholy. Before the words even left her mouth, she knew that her question had been wrong.

"Oh…so you're one of _those_ people?" Malfoy asked, scoffing.

Rose said nothing, confused.

"'Those people'?" Al echoed.

"Oh, you know…those people who freak out over Sorting, like it's some kind of a death sentence, like it actually matters," he tried to explain nonchalantly.

Utterly confused, Rose wondered aloud, "And it doesn't?"

"No!" the boy laughed.

Albus and Rose shared a very strange look. This thought had never once occurred to them.

"I mean," he continued, "are you really going to listen to what an old _hat_ tells you? No one can truly fit into one single category – smart, brave, ambitious, and…friendly? I don't know...I never really understood Hufflepuff."

"So…you're against Sorting?" Rose asked.

"No, not necessarily," explained the boy. "Just the stereotypes the go along with it. I mean, since when are _all_ Gryffindors brave? _All_ Ravenclaws geniuses? _All_ Slytherins evil?"

"Well, of course you would say that…" Al muttered under his breath, but apparently, not soft enough.

The boy looked straight at Al, eyebrows raised. "Because I'm a Malfoy, huh?"

Al stared at his shoes.

Malfoy leaned back in his chair. "And you are, a what?"

Albus straightened up, trying to regain confidence. "I'm a Potter."

That about did it. The boy made an "I rest my case" gesture and leaned back farther into the seat. His eyes wandered towards Rose. "And what about you, Cart Girl?" he asked.

"Weasley," she answered, her voice softer than she would've liked it to have been.

" _A Potter, a Weasley, and a Malfoy are sitting on a train…"_ Malfoy muttered jokingly. "Sounds like a horrible gag on one of those variety shows."

That was it for Rose, who couldn't hold back her comments any longer. She about had it with this kid.

"Are you _always_ this cynical?" she snapped.

"Are you _always_ that ginger?"

Rose scowled. Malfoy scowled back. Al was lost.

But she wasn't done. "But you can't hate the Houses simply due to that reason," she went on explaining. "Sure, there are stereotypes, as there are with any group. Studies have proven that students who lived and mingle with those of similar passions and moral values perform significantly better on the OWLs."

Al buried his head in his hands. "Oh God, she's doing it again…"

Apparently, Malfoy wasn't either. " _But,_ Miss Weasley, studies have also shown that those students who feel pressured by unrealistic standards set by societal grouping go on to have low self-esteem, lower-paying careers, and bouts of depression."

Al just groaned. "I'm living in Nerd Central…"

" _But,"_ Rose countered. "If you look in Chapter 2 of _Hogwarts: A History,_ you will clearly see –"

"FOR GOD'S SAKE, WILL YOU TWO QUIT IT? YOU ARE LITERALLY THE ONLY TWO PEOPLE WHO ACTUALLY UNDERSTAND THIS POINTLESS CRAP!"

Both Rose and Malfoy closed their mouths immediately. Al sighed and closed his eyes, soaking in the peaceful quiet of the compartment, but also knowing it wasn't going to last long. And sure enough…

"But if you had to choose," Rose added, "what would it be?"

Malfoy bit his lip and turned to the window, watching the endless grasslands fly past.

"Not Slytherin," he answered quietly.

And it was in that moment that Rose finally figured Malfoy out – those blue eyes finally made sense, why they were different from his father's.

"What's your name?" Rose finally asked.

The boy smiled. It was a small smile, but a smile nevertheless.

"Scorpius."


	4. Author's Note 1

**Hey guys! About every three chapters, I hope to take a little time to ask for feedback and any other questions you may have.**

 **But first and foremost, I'd really like to thank everyone who reviewed, followed, or favorite-d (dash necessary, because apparently "favorited" isn't a word...? This is a dark day for the dictionary.) It really means a lot - so far, I've loved working with this story and its characters. Thank you so much!**

 **A few things I'm curious about:**

 **\- what did you guys think of the Ron/Hermione dynamic? I did the best I could to keep true to the characters (and who doesn't love a good Romione banter?) but also use them to tie into our sub-plot. Liked? Disliked? In between?**

 **\- just because I'm insanely curious...predictions on Al's, Rose's, and Scorpius's Sorting? I already know where they're headed, and I've read so many great fanfictions with them is different Houses, but I'd love to hear what you guys think!**

 **\- what did you think about Scorpius? He was the most difficult to write, because while I want he and Rose to be kindred spirits, I want to stop them from getting too friendly...at least...for now. While they may have some sort of an understanding, I also love it when the two go head-to-head, as while they both may be extremely bright, Scorp is a bit more cynical and charismatic, while Rose has more of her mother in her, while also being extremely competitive. Thoughts?**

Knock-turnal - **Thank you so much for your review! It really got me pepped-up to keep writing :)**

nikkiRiddle \- **I'm really glad that you enjoy it! I'll try to update as often as I can - at the very, very least, once a week. But luckily, I've been getting some consecutive free-days this week, giving me time to post three back-to-back. Once school starts again, it will be more difficult, but I'll let you guys know is updates change by then.**

Guest review - **Thanks for the feedback! And yes, I'm still building upon Scorp's character, and like I said earlier, trying to find the balance in his personality. But don't worry, in the next few chapters following the Sorting, we'll see a lot more of him and get more glimpses at to what's going on inside his head. I'm so glad that you love Al/Rose and Fred/James - they're so fun to write!**

 **Thank you guys so much! Please continue to review and follow, we're just getting started! :)**


	5. Every Fathomable Thought

"Firs' years over here! Firs' years!"

Rose could hear Hagrid's booming voice as she stepped off the train. Al stood beside her, a grim look on his face, and right behind him, was their new…friend? Frenemy? Acquaintance?...Scorpius Malfoy.

He and Albus had really hit it off. While it seemed all he and Rose could do was debate, they had real conversations, whether it involved Quidditch, their parents, or Hogwarts. Rose knew that she should be happy for Al, but with every word, she felt as if she was being left behind…like Al had gotten on another train without telling her, leaving her on the platform. But she quickly dismissed these thoughts from her mind. She had bigger things to worry about.

 _Sorting. Quidditch. Then best friend._

She overhead Albus say, "See you inside?" followed by Scorpius's agreement.

Al finally caught up with her. "Wow – the Scorpius kid is _hilarious!"_

"Sure, if you think cynical, cocky, and rude is funny, then sure," Rose rebuffed.

Al looked confused. "But I thought you liked him? Remember the whole 'let's go sit with the kid – strangers are friends you haven't met yet' thing?"

"Well, I mean – I do, not really, well, maybe –" Rose struggled to answer, as she wasn't really sure herself, when she was cut off by a booming voice.

"Why, Miss Weasley! Mr. Potter!"

Rose and Al looked up to see none other than Rubeus Hagrid. Though graying and stooping a little more, the gamekeeper still towered above them, smiling. Rose had never been more relieved to see Hagrid in her life. He came over every year for Christmas dinner, as well as most family functions. He was practically an uncle to her.

"Hagrid!" the two greeted cheerily, running over to him to give him a hug.

Hagrid let out an _oof!_ as they squeezed him tightly. When they finally let go, Hagrid asked, grinning, "Ya nervous?"

Al shrugged, but it was still evident in his face.

"Nah, don't be," Hagrid dismissed with a wave of his gigantic hand. "If there's any firs' years that can handle this, it's you two." He looked around. "Where's yer brother, Albus?"

"Probably off planting spiders in girls' trunks," Al replied, grinning.

Hagrid chuckled, shaking his head. "That boy," he muttered. "Been wantin' ter invite him and Freddie over fer tea. Two years, he's been at this school, and you'd think he would've tried my famous rock cakes."

Rose held back a grimace. _She_ had had the pleasure of trying a delicious rock cake. It did not end well. She could see why James was trying to avoid it.

"Well," announced the half-giant, "better get a move on to the boats!"

"Bye, Hagrid!" called Rose and Al. "See you soon!"

With a final smile, Hagrid turned and disappeared through the crowd – well, not really. It's kind of hard to disappear with his size, but he vanished…eventually.

There were countless wooden boats parked along the lake. Al and Rose hopped into one, along with two other new students that looked vaguely familiar, but their names could not be remembered. From the corner of her eye, Rose saw that Scorpius had gotten into one of the farthest boats, along with Rebecca Thomas and two others she didn't know.

Magically, the boats pushed off of the shore and began their graceful journey across the glassy Black Lake. As the water rushed past them with each movement of the oars, Rose's heart raced faster and faster until she could've sworn it was trying to fly. Strangely enough, all of her fear was slowly transforming into excitement. Maybe it was because she was starting to believe Scorpius. Maybe it was because she realized how silly she was being. Or maybe…it was because of the fantasy that lay before her.

And there it was – worthy of every dream, of every idea that had ever come to her. Every moment she had spent pondering about what it looked like, amounted to nothing. It was beyond description, beyond every fathomable thought.

A giant stone castle stood in the distance. Warm light shown from the windows inside, sharply contrasting the black of the night, and casting golden shadows onto the lake's inky depths. It stood so tall that it almost scraped the moon – a single beacon of hope that destroyed any terror Rose had felt before. No matter what House she would be in, she knew that this place was home. It was funny – she had talked about it so much, casually discussing its going-ons, and yet…she couldn't even put her ignorance into words.

The boats finally reached the other side. One of the vaguely-familiar boat members went to help Rose out. He was handsome for his age – most boys didn't grow into their looks until after puberty, something they had all just begun. He outstretched his hand, his smile dazzling. Rose looked at the hand, looked at him, looked back at the hand and completely ignored it, stepping out of the boat by herself and leaving the boy stunned on the shore. Al snickered. He knew better than to try to _help_ Rose – she felt demeaned by it, proclaiming, "Believe it or not, I learned to walk, too."

As she approached the great wooden doors, Rose began to feel her anxiousness again. Behind these doors lay the rest of her life. She looked beside her at Albus, who, she could tell, was thinking the same. This was only the beginning of what would be the greatest seven years of their lives.

But she must have been running toward them too quickly, as she felt her foot snag on something – most likely a rock – and her face soon met the ground.

Groaning, Rose looked up to see the same boy who had attempted to help her out of the boat. His hand was extended.

"Are you alright?"

Rose got up, brushed the dirt off of herself, and said to him in a snotty voice, "I told you – I'm _fine!"_ and she flounced off, leaving the boy with a very confused look on his face.

Suddenly, descending from the staircase was none other than the headmistress herself, Minerva McGonagall. She still wore her famous hat and emerald robes, but now, her face beheld more wear, as well as her gray hair holding patches of white. But what had never changed was the immediate authority that radiated off of her. Anyone and everyone knew better than to cross her.

While it wasn't customary for the headmistress to bring in the first years, Minerva continued to do it for the sole reason that she secretly loved it. Years and years of being deputy headmistress and seeing their nervous, innocent faces had grown on her. Now, it was something she simply could not give up.

"Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," she announced to crowd. "Behind these doors await the rest of your schoolmates…and your future. It is a chance for a fresh start, so I suggest all you use it well. We will begin with the Sorting, and then we will go into the start-of-term banquet.

"There are four Houses – Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. You House will become your family. Good behavior will gain you house points, and any rule breaking will cause you to lose them. At the end of the year, the house with the most points wins the House Cup. Work hard, persevere, and never fail to perform to the best of your ability, and I can assure you that your time here at Hogwarts will be well spent."

She finished with a soft smile on her face, as if she knew a secret they didn't. Rose would've given anything to find out.

McGonagall organized them into two single-file lines. Once they were all lines up, Rose felt Al's hand from behind her, squeezing it for good luck. Swallowing hard, Rose faced the great wooden doors as they creaked open.

The Great Hall was full of hustle and bustle. Students from all houses stared at them as they walked past, giving them looks that were in between fascination and "check out the new meat." Looking up, Rose saw that James had not been lying – the ceiling really did reflect the night sky, and there really were floating candles, like stars amid the blackness.

At the front of the room was the great table. In the middle was an empty seat, where McGonagall would be sitting. Beside her sat Professor Longbottom (or _Uncle_ Longbottom, practically), and on the other side was Professor Flitwick. At the far end of the table sat Hagrid, goblet in hand, and on the other end, Professor Slughorn, who had agreed to leave his retirement to teach the new generation of the Potter-Weasley. There were a good handful of teachers she had never seen or heard of before – it was difficult to realize that her Hogwarts would never be her parent's Hogwarts. But nevertheless, Rose told herself, this was going to be _her_ year. And as corny as it may sound, she was going to make the best of the time she had.

McGonagall set down a wooden stool and placed the infamous Sorting Hat on top, looking as worn as ever. Taking out a long scroll, she cleared her throat and called out, "Abberley, Sarah."

A preppy-looking brunette, her hair in two long pigtails hopped up to the stool. In a matter of seconds, the hat called, "Gryffindor!"

Then, there was, "Bampton, John," and, "Clearwater, April," who went to Slytherin and Ravenclaw, respectively. April, Rose realized, had been in her boat, and her mother was a close friend of her uncle Percy. "Caudwell, Zeke," became a Hufflepuff, and "Doge, Veronica" was a Ravenclaw. "Dunbar, Aaron," was a Gryffindor. There was "Jones, Carmichael" who went to Hufflepuff.

The list went on and on, and with each time, Rose thought she might very well die on the spot if her name was called.

Until finally, she heard the words, "Malfoy, Scorpius!"

Scorpius emerged from the back of the crowd, his pale hands wringed together as if he was prepared to plead for his life at any moment. There soon became a dull roar of whispers from every table in the room – words flew past like, " _Malfoy," "Death-Eater,"_ and _"You-Know-Who."_ Though he pretended not to notice, Rose could see a dull pain in his eyes, like each word was picking at a scab that had never fully healed.

Swallowing hard, he sat on top of the stool, and the hat was placed on top of his head. The entire school stared, awaiting the answer they knew was coming. He was a _Malfoy_ after all. The answer was as clear as day – so why was it taking so incredibly long?

What seemed like five minutes went past. Scorpius just sat on the stool, listening to whatever the Hat was telling him. _Hat Stall,_ Rose realized. She had read about it in _Hogwarts: A History._ There were only a number of them on record – her uncle Neville (and almost Uncle Harry) was one of them.

Suddenly, the hat cleared his throat for attention, and then yelled a single word, "GRYFFINDOR!"

There was no applause. Every table sat in stunned silence, especially the Slytherins, who had already prepared an empty seat for him. But no matter –Scorpius grinned, nodded to McGonagall, and strutted down the stairs to sit at the Gryffindor table.

McGonagall blinked a few times, getting out of her haze, and began to clap. Slowly, but surely, the teachers joined in and eventually, the students.

 _Of course,_ Rose thought, _his cockiness, the way he fiercely argued with me…how could he not be in Gryffindor?_

But then another voice chimed in, _Because he's a_ Malfoy.

While a part of her was glad that the boy had accomplished his goal ("not Slytherin"), another part was relieved that she would not be in the same house as him. Of course she wouldn't. Why shouldn't she? Right?

That's when she realized that he was staring right at her, a euphoric smile on his face.

 _What?_ she mouthed.

He crossed his fingers for her, mouthing back, ' _Not Gryffindor.'_

Nodding, she repeated, _Not Gryffindor._

The crowd soon got over the surprise of Scorpius and the names resumed. A few more to Ravenclaw, one to Gryffindor, two to Slytherin, one to Hufflepuff, and then – "Potter, Albus."

Much like Scorpius, the whispers resumed, but this time, they were exceedingly positive. "If we don't get that boy, I swear I'm going to Durmstrang," said one Gryffindor. Another muttered, "He gets in Hufflepuff, and I've got seven years' worth of blackmail." (Rose could only wonder who said that one.)

Al squeezed her hand, and began to make his way up the steps. He looked significantly greener than he did five minutes ago.

The Hat was placed on his head. There were maybe a few seconds before the Hat called out…

"SLYTHERIN!"

Al sat in stunned silence, looking up at McGonagall, making sure it wasn't a mistake. But she could only nod at him, silently telling him to go sit back down. Al locked eyes with Rose, whose mouth was nearly hitting the floor.

It finally dawned on him – he was _not_ a Gryffindor, nor was he a Ravenclaw or, for God's sake, even a Hufflepuff. No – he was a _Slytherin._

He promptly threw up on McGonagall's shoes.

As McGonagall set the scroll down to momentarily clean herself up, Madame Pomfrey appeared and escorted Al out of the room. The entire Hall was abuzz. Rose looked at Scorpius, who could only shrug at her, looking bewildered himself.

Suddenly, James Potter stood up on the Gryffindor table, yelling out in the direction of the Slytherins, "TRADE! GIVE US POTTER, AND YOU CAN TAKE MALFOY!"

The Slytherins took a moment, thinking it over. Then, all smirking, turned to McGonagall and began begging her to let them do it. The Hufflepuffs began crying out in refusal, and there wasn't a Ravenclaw in sight that wasn't consulting _Hogwarts: A History._

Carmichael Jones, the new Hufflepuff, stood and asked, "Wait – can they _do_ that?"

April Clearwater looked over at him, holding up her book and saying, "There's nothing in here that says they _can't."_

This only invigorated James even more. "See?!" he shouted excitably, still standing on top of the table, being cheered on by his classmates.

" _But,"_ said Vienna Abernathy, a sixth-year Ravenclaw, "there's also nothing that says they _can."_

The uproar only grew louder. McGonagall finally returned from the back, and looked at the crowd with utter disgust.

"QUIET!" she shouted. Everyone immediately silenced. "Mr. Potter, detention for a week."

James looked stunned but made no effort to get down from on top of the table.

"Oh, sit down!"

Ashamed, he finally did so.

She then turned to the Ravenclaws, and announced, " _No,_ I assure you they cannot. The Hat's decision is final. Thousands of years and it has never once proved us wrong. I doubt it will do so now."

After one last angry glare to the crowd, she unraveled the scroll and called out, "Scamander, Lorcan."

From the crowd came the handsome boy who had offered to help Rose earlier. In the light, he was even handsomer, with this golden hair and defined features. Rose's heart fluttered, though she did her best to stop it. After a few moments, he became a Ravenclaw.

"Scamander, Lysander."

Then, came the same boy _again._ The time, he looked even handsomer – or was that just the light? _Twins,_ Rose realized, inwardly chuckling at her stupidity. She then remembered where she knew them from. They were Aunt Luna's kids, but she had hardly been able to see them, given all the travelling they do. Aunt Luna was a sort of naturalist, and she travelled the world discovering new and amazing magical creatures, along with her husband. Rose had heard that, because her sons were now old enough to attend Hogwarts, they would be settling down with Luna's father.

He, too, became a Ravenclaw. A handful more were called, and finally, came the moment she had been waiting for –

"Weasley, Rose."

Swallowing hard, Rose took a deep breath and made her way to the stool. She wished Al was here – he would've given her that reassuring smile that she needed so badly. She made eye contact with James, hoping he could take his brother's place, but he was still staring at his plate, moping over his detention. _He should be used to that by now,_ Rose noted.

Taking a seat, McGonagall placed the worn hat on top of her head. Pretty soon, she could hear a small voice in her ear –

" _Ah, Miss Weasley! This is going to be interesting."_

"How so?"

" _Obviously! The daughter of the brightest witch of her age and Ron Weasley! And from what I see , you've got a good bit of both…"_

"No, no, stop it! Whatever you do, not Gryffindor! Um – put me in Slytherin with Albus! Or better yet, Ravenclaw! Just not Gryffindor!"

" _Hmmm…a thirst to prove yourself, much like your dear cousin, and yet, so different. Slytherin would stifle your fiery persona, and I could never let that happen."_

"…alright."

" _Hufflepuff is out of the question. You're far too competitive – those poor badgers wouldn't know what's coming."_

"Thank you?"

" _So where to put you…?"_

"Not Gryffindor, _please!"_

" _And why not?"_

"I – I need to become my own person, not just Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley's daughter! I can't just become another link in the world's greatest chain…I need to carve out my own place! Create my own legacy! Surely, you can understand!"

" _I very much do, Miss Weasley. However, I'm afraid you've only confirmed what I already suspected."_

"I, uh – wait, what?"

" _So bold…daring to wander off the path, even if it means leaving all that you've ever known. Only the brave at heart would be willing to do that."_

"No! Please! I'm different!"

 _"_ _Of course you are, Miss Weasley. And it's your willingness to be so that makes you so similar. Better be –_ GRYFFINDOR!"

Rose's heart sank lower than she could have ever thought possible. For a moment, she considered throwing up on McGonagall and having an excuse to be alone for a while, but she knew how suspicious that would be. _Gryffindor – of course! Rose Weasley is a Gryffindor. Mom and Dad will be so proud._

She did her best to look pleasant as she made her way to the table. James congratulatory slapped her on the shoulder, and she gave him a half-smile. From the far end, she could see Victoire and Dominique, giving her thumbs-up, as well as Angela and Fred. Molly and Lucy smiled at her brightly, and yet, Rose could still not muster anything genuine.

She felt a hand on her shoulder once more. Turning beside her, she saw that it was Scorpius, the only one who wasn't celebrating.

"I'm really sorry, Rose," he said quietly so James couldn't hear him.

Rose felt a flood of appreciation for the Hat Staller – he may have escaped fate, and even though she had failed to, he was the only one who could possibly understand what she was feeling right now.

And finally, looking at Scorpius, she found the will to muster a smile.


	6. Our Dearly Departed

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

 _I'm afraid there's been a terrible accident. I did the best I could – I tried to save him – I really did…_

 _He was too young, far too young. Why God takes the most innocent of us, we may never know. I suppose it is one of the greatest mysteries of life – what_ is _life anyway? We live a little…then we die…like the flowers in a meadow of sorrow…_

 _It's about your son. Not me, but the "other one."_

 _Albus. He's – he's – he's…!_

A SLYTHERIN.

 _*a moment of silence for our dearly departed*_

 _…_

 _…_

 _…_

 _Does this mean I'm an only child? In the eyes of the law, I mean._

 _Your_ only _son,_

 _James_

 _P.S. Al really is upset and you should write to him. See? I'm not the_ worst _brother in the world…_

0o0o0

 _Dear Mum and Dad,_

 _Hope your well. I survived my first day, just like you said I would. I'm also a Gryffindor, just like you said I would be._

 _My roommates aren't that bad – of course, I could live without Sarah Abberley's excessive hyperness and snoring, but I like Hera Thomas pretty well – I think we're going to be good friends._

 _But Al isn't taking it well. I did my best to cheer him up after the ceremony, but he wouldn't even talk to me! He just stormed off with the rest of the Slytherins. That's another thing I'm worried about – how will they treat a "muggle-born loving" Potter?_ _And what about Scorpius? Everyone's so resentful towards him, and yes, he's a pain but he's not THAT horrible and what if they taunt him and I'd hate for that to happen…_ _Nevermind. Forget I ever said that. (Why did I write in ink...?)_

 _My House is supposed to be my "home", and yet, without Al, I feel more alone than ever._

 _Love,_

 _Rosie_

0o0o0

 _Dear Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny,_

 _I'm writing on behalf of Albus, who cornered me in the hall on the way back from the ceremony. Apparently, because he's currently not speaking to Rose or his brother, I'm his best bet. It's nice to there's a list, and I'm on it._

 _So here's what he wants to say. Verbatim. Seriously, though, I'm just copying it down:_

 _ALBUS: "Tell them I'm sorry I'm such a disappointment and I was going to negotiate with the Sorting Hat but the bloody thing wouldn't even listen to me or even give me a second to tell him because he immediately knew what he wanted the moment he was put on my head and I tried I really did and I can't talk to Rose because as much as she wants to deny it to you guys she never even wanted to be in Gryffindor and it's all about some crap about wanting to be her own person and I would switch places with her if I could because she's being ungrateful that she's at least somewhere respectable and here I am, the only Potter in history to be in SLYTHERIN._

 _And by the way, I can't tell you this because I'm too ashamed. That's why I hired Fred. (He's not paying me, by the way! And he talks really fast. Like, REALLY fast. So I should get a bonus…if he paid me.) Love you."_

 _So…yeah. The poor kid's a mess. James would never admit it, but he's worried about him, too. Al's usually this happy kid, but since after the ceremony…he's just not himself. Rose is also upset because he won't talk to her, and it's just SO WEIRD to not see the two together. Mind you, it's been only a day, but in drama-time, it feels like a year._

 _Well…that's all for now. Hope Al isn't shamed forever!_

 _Hugs and butterfly kisses,_

 _Fred Weasley Jr._

0o0o0

 _Dear Teddy,_

 _Roses are red,_

 _Violets are blue._

 _A Mandrake's scream is what it's like_

 _When I'm not with you._

 _I miss your eyes,_

 _Your turquoise hair,_

 _Even the occasional pig snout,_

 _Though I pretended not to care._

 _Missing home,_

 _Missing you,_

 _Lots of love,_

 _Your Vicky-poo_

0o0o0

 _Dear Victoire,_

 _Roses are red,_

 _Violets are –_

 _BAM! I'm a metamorphmagus and I just made them pink…_

 _Your favorite color._

 _Can't rhyme but loves you,_

 _Teddy_

0o0o0

 _Dear Al,_

 _Listen, I know you're upset, but I'm here for you if you need me. It's been twenty-four hours and I miss my best friend. We can talk about this, you know._

 _Your BESTEST friend,_

 _Rose_

0o0o0

 _Dear Mum and Dad,_

 _I'm a Gryffindor._

 _See you at Christmas._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Scorpius_


	7. One day and Someday

_"_ _No! No! Please, I'm different!"_

 _"_ _Of course you are, Miss Weasley. And it's your willingness to be so that makes you so similar…"_

 _Rose looked out to the crowd, and she could see her cousins, all lined up in a row, applauding. For a moment, they looked like themselves, but before long, they were simply a blur. Red hair, hand-me-down robes, and a stupid complexion…_

 _"_ _You must be a Weasley."_

Rose awoke with a start. All she could remember from the dream was those last five words. Checking to see if she had woken any of her roommates up, she was relieved to discover that they were all fast asleep. Hera Thomas was buried beneath her coves, rising and falling with her breathing. Sarah Abberley was snoring so loudly that she was sure the Ravenclaws could hear her, and at the bed beside her and next to Rose, Matilda Wood was muttering in her sleep – something about house elves playing Quidditch. And across the room, Helena Macmillian was tossing and turning.

Her roommates were an…interesting bunch. While Hera seemed very down-to-earth and probably the calmest, everyone else was rather eccentric. Sarah could _not_ stop talking to save her life. She was a Muggleborn who had only just discovered she was a witch, and eager to prove herself, spewed out random Hogwarts trivia whenever seemed appropriate.

Rose had never thought anyway knew more about Quidditch than she did – until she met Matilda Wood. Not only was her father a player in the professional league, but she was constantly bragging about her own talent. She had already made it clear that she was going to be Keeper, much to Rose's dismay. But try-outs were in a week, and only time would tell.

Helena Macmillian was a shy, half-blood witch that kept mostly to herself. She moved in and out of the dorm like a ghost. Rose had tried to befriend her in the very beginning, but the best she got was a half-smile and awkward silence.

Burying her face in her hands, Rose Weasley cried. She had failed herself. All she would ever be was a Weasley. A face in a crowd. It's so easy to be forgotten, to be left behind, and it seemed her fate was sealed. Rose _was_ left behind, _was_ forgotten. Al may be upset over being alone, but at least he had escaped.

The tears continued to fall. Countless times, she begged herself to stop, but to no avail. Finally, after realizing there was no way she was ever going to get to sleep, Rose grabbed her housecoat and Potions textbook and descended down the stairs into the common room. She scanned the room until she found the perfect spot to read, right by the roaring fire. Setting up a comfortable spot on the sofa and grabbing a blanket, she snuggled up and was soon in her own little world.

"Rose?"

It was only then that she realized she wasn't alone. Looking back behind the sofa, she saw him.

Through the soft glow, she could make out a pair of green eyes, long black hair, and a worried expression.

"Al?" she realized, wiping her eyes. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

Albus Severus Potter took a shaky breath. "I have a plan. It's going to fix everything. But I need to act _now_ before it's too late."

He began to walk out of the room, expecting Rose to follow him without another word of explanation. Turning back, he added, "Are you coming or not?"

Rose got up from the sofa and called out, "What on earth are you talking about? Al? Come back!"

Al turned around right by the portrait opening, a wicked grin on his face.

"Rose Weasley," he announced, "it's time for your Sorting."

0o0o0

"Do you think he'll wake up?"

"Quit giggling and keep pouring!"

"Oh God – I can't wait to see the look on his face when he –"

Scorpius Malfoy's eyes flew open in alarm. Had he been dreaming? Or did he actually hear voices? It had been such a nice dream…his parents had taken him home for Christmas. When he had gotten to the manor, there was a giant tree dressed in red and gold –

" _Run!_ He's awake!"

Whipping his head beside him, Scorpius saw the horrified faces of his roommates – Aaron Dunbar, Edmund Fiffle, Henry Jordan, and one of the most despicable people he had ever met, Jeffrey McLaggen – each holding a bottle of Butterbeer Syrup. Scorpius's hands went to feel his hair – and he immediately regretted it, as his blonde locks were drenched in the gooey mess.

Leaping to his feet and prepared to fight, Scorpius stood beside his bed and waited for the boys to come at him. But they remained on the other end of the room, smiling cruelly.

 _What the –?_

There was a poof of white dust that descended quickly from the ceiling. At first, he felt nothing. Then a strange fiery sensation began on his back, and before he knew it, he couldn't stop scratching. He scratched and scratched, desperate to get the powder off of him.

Jeffrey McLaggen let out a laugh. "Muggle itching powder. Pretty nifty stuff, ain't it?"

Shooting him a fierce glare, Scorpius ran in his direction – until he slipped on the syrup, which was covering the floor. He slid out the door, following the trail of slime, and down and down and down the staircase, until he fell head-first onto the Common Room floor.

He was covered in the goo – there wasn't a single inch of him that remained dry. His hair had begun to stick to his ears as it dried, and the itching powder was still burning like a raging fire down his back.

Groaning, he glanced up to see all four boys looking down at him from their room, laughing hysterically.

"Go home, Death Eater!" called McLaggen, high-fiving Aaron Dunbar. And with a final howl of laughter, they shut the door, leaving Scorpius sprawled out at the bottom of the stairs, sticky, itchy, and utterly betrayed.

0o0o0

"This way!" Al announced, leading his cousin through the dark halls of Hogwarts.

They were downstairs, a few corridors away from the Great Hall. Miraculously, Mrs. Norris hadn't discovered them yet. Rose assumed that security measures were lower than usual, given it _was_ the first night at school. No students were expected to be out of bed, and yet, here they were.

Rose groaned, tired of all the secrecy. Her cousin had just waltzed in and –

"Wait a minute," Rose stopped him, raising an eyebrow. "How did you get into the Gryffindor Common Room?"

Al looked back for a moment, sheepish. "Uh…James might've told me the password…"

"Albus Severus Potter!" Rose scolded him.

He only shrugged. "It's not exactly the most top-notch security system in the world, Rose. God, one night as a Gryffindor and you're already getting a big head!"

Rose's eyes narrowed. "And one night as a Slytherin and you're already breaking school rules."

"Hey – you agreed to come!" he pointed out. "Here we are!"

They had reached the wooden door to a small room right off of the Great Hall. It was mainly used as storage, with shelves of unused candles and cloths for different occasions. But in the center of the room was one thing that was extremely out of place.

There sat the old, worn-out Sorting Hat on the same stool the students had used earlier that day.

Rose immediately looked back at her cousin, very worried. "Al, what are we doing here? Why's the Hat here and not in McGonagall's office?"

"Do you remember when you dragged me into Flourish and Blotts when we went to Diagon Alley last month?" Albus asked.

"Yes…?"

"Well, you went off to go find some book about Quidditch world records, and I was left wondering, 'What the heck am I doing here?' Then, I thought, I might as well make use of the time I've got. So I did a little research on the whole process of Sorting and the Hat itself."

Rose was still incredulous. "Go on," she told him.

"Right, so I was pouring over some humongous book, when I read that there's a _trial period!"_

"A – A trial period?"

Al nodded excitably. "Any student can be re-Sorted within the first twenty-four hours of their original assignment! Something about 'unforeseen circumstances' and blah, blah, blah. I think some Hufflepuffs were causing problems."

Rose's eyes lit up. "Wait – _re-Sorted_?"

Al grinned wildly. "Re-Sorted! So basically, if I put on the Sorting Hat now, and he actually takes my decision into account, I can go to Gryffindor!"

 _And I can leave it!_ Rose realized. A surprised laugh escaped her, as she tackled her cousin into a bone-crushing hug.

"Al, you're a genius!" she cried. "A bloody genius!"

Laughing, Al told her, "Don't jinx it! We're going for Gryffindor, not Ravenclaw!"

Rose pulled away, looking at the Hat on the stool in front of her. "But I still don't understand what it's doing here," she said.

"That's another thing I read," Al explained. "After the ceremony, they place it in the side room so it can replenish its magic. There're too many other magical objects that can interfere with it in the headmaster's office, so the room with the least magic works best. And what better place than a bloody _storage closet?_ "

"I'm taking you to bookstores more often," she muttered, impressed.

"But think of this opportunity!" Al exclaimed. "We both know the Sorting Hat was wrong, and now we have a chance to fix it!"

Rose nodded, wordlessly staring at the Hat. "So…if he changes his mind…?"

"We're free," Al answered, grinning. "So who wants to go first?"

Taking a step back, Rose said, "Your idea. You go."

Nodding, Al made his way towards the stool. Thanking his lucky stars that he had picked up that book at Flourish and Blotts, he lifted the Hat off of the stool, sat down, and placed it on his head.

 _"_ _Mr. Potter! I assumed I'd be seeing you again. Doubtful, I suppose?"_

"Of course I am! You didn't even give me a chance to speak!"

" _I didn't need to."_

"Huh?"

" _It was all there inside your head, and never before have I been more certain of a Sorting than yours."_

"No, but – but that's impossible! I was made to be a Gryffindor, can't you see that?"

"Made _to be a Gryffindor, maybe, but_ meant _to be one?"_

"I don't think I understand."

" _All you need to understand is this – your ambitiousness, your resourcefulness, even your cunning, immediately pointed me in the direction of Slytherin. Would a Gryffindor be that_ _willing to break one of the most serious school rules, sneaking out of bed and into another House, in order to accomplish his means? Would a Gryffindor have been so ashamed to write home that he would have to enlist the help of his cousin?"_

"B-but I'm a Gryffindor, I know it. Please, _please_ change your decision."

" _Never once have I ever backed out on a Sorting, Mr. Potter. Even those who seek me out realize in the end how very right I was. You may not see it now, but the time will come when you all will have to face who you really are. And for you, that is a Slytherin."_

"No. It's not. It can't be –!"

" _Then let the decision be yours: you can go back to the Slytherin dormitory tonight, as a Slytherin, wondering when you will become your true self, or you can go back to your dormitory as a Gryffindor and a fraud, knowing you never will."_

A seed of doubt began to grow in young Albus's mind. Of course, there was a chance he was, in fact, meant to be a Gryffindor, but there was also a chance that he was wrong and he _was_ a Slytherin. The question remained, was he willing to take that chance?

To never be his true self…to become a fraud…those were things he would prefer anything to. He would rather be a true Slytherin than a fake Gryffindor.

And even if he was a Gryffindor, there would always be that small seed that would continue to grow and grow until it took up his whole being. A lifetime of chance could never amount to this single moment of sure truth.

And maybe one day he could face that truth. It might not be today, but "one day" is better than "never again."

Not today, but one day. Someday.

"SLYTHERIN!"

Albus slid off the stool, his face unreadable. He handed the Hat to his cousin, who looked thoroughly confused at his reaction, having not heard the discussion that went on. He would explain all of that later…one day.

Rose slowly set the hat on her head. Immediately, she heard the voice:

 _"_ _I believe I made my decision clear, Miss Weasley."_

"But I haven't. You may have, but I haven't."

 _"_ _And what might that be?"_

"Anywhere but here."

" _So stubborn. Just like your mother…and your father, in fact."_

"Wha – really?"

 _"_ _Oh yes…your mother was so insistent on Gryffindor, and yet her mind was so poised for Ravenclaw. To put it simply, I believe it had to do with two boys and a gut feeling."_

"So what did you do?"

 _"_ _Well, I almost denied her – much like I am doing to you now – if it hadn't been for that steady, spark of courage I saw underlying all of that genius. And in time, it paid off. I've never been wrong, I should remind you."_

"What about my father?"

 _"_ _Much easier, much easier. While the Weasleys were already prone to Gryffindor, he had been so insistent that he follow in their footsteps, I could see the boldness right then and there."_

"But…what are you going to do about me? When I have neither issue?"

 _"_ _While you are exceedingly bright, Miss Weasley, I'm afraid you're similar to your mother. There is a flame of courage hidden somewhere inside of you. It's all in here, I can see it now – your job is to find it and to cherish it."_

"You say that now, but in a few years you might –"

 _"–_ _prove you wrong. I_ will _prove you wrong one day. Much like your dear cousin, the matter is simply that you are denying who truly are. You're willing to compensate your identity for a mask. But if I sort you into Ravenclaw now, you would wear that mask forever…and you would never forgive yourself."_

It's amazing how the truth can both sting and ease at the same time. Rose's pride was destroyed beyond repair, and maybe, just maybe, she could build it up again. But she could only do that if she was honest with herself.

"…I see. But one last thing."

" _Yes?"_

"What about Mr. Malf – Scorpius?"

The Hat seemed to chuckle.

 _"_ _Oh, I expect that boy will be surprising us all very soon, Miss Weasley. Very soon, indeed."_

Following the announcement of "Gryffindor!" Rose set the Hat back onto the stool and offered a small smile to her cousin, who returned it. Neither spoke on the way back to their dormitories, nor did they noticed Minerva McGonagall beside the door, smiling.


	8. Author's Note 2

**Hey guys! Just wanted to take little time to thank everyone for their support for this story! It's my first fanfic, one that I've been sitting on for a while, it means a lot to get such great feedback! :)**

 **At this point, we're really going to start up the plot, since Parts 1 and 2 were mainly character development and setting things up. I can't wait to get started!**

 **First, I think I'd like to discuss my reasoning for the Sortings...this took me** ** _forever_** **to figure out, because not only do you have to look at the personalities and backgrounds of the characters, but also what Houses will affect where the plot is eventually going to go.**

 **Rose - I've had my mind made up all along that she was going to be a Gryffindor. Kind of like how nikkiRiddle explained, it's important for her to realize that she can still become her own person, and she will inadvertently discover who she is whilst being 'just another Weasley.' I'm really excited to write about her journey in Gryffindor...I've got a lot of great ideas lined up.**

 **Albus - I first thought, "Duh, Slytherin! Because that's the one thing he doesn't want to be!" Then I garbaged (not a word, but who really cares?) that idea and thought Ravenclaw, but then that would've only been because it would be boring to put him in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, and I felt that wasn't a good enough reason either. After thinking it over, I realized how perfect it would be to put him in Slytherin. He's so eager to prove himself, and as he showed in Ch. 6, willing to do anything to get what he wants. This will also test his relationship with his cousin and family, as he is now the odd one out. Al, like Rose, will really begin trying to find his footing as a Slytherin, and though it may take good and bad turns, I've got some plot ideas that will make good use of it :)**

 **Scorpius - I am inwardly groaning as I explain this one. I was writing Ch.4, just going and going and going, when I realized I had suddenly typed, "Gryffindor." I thought it over and realized...yeah. In most fanfics, yes, he's usually a Slytherin, but my portrayal of the character was just SO GRYFFINDOR that I just couldn't brush it off. Him being a Gryffindor will really give him the opportunity to differentiate himself from his father and grandfather. Scorpius is the branch in the Malfoy family tree that will turn things around for the better. JK Rowling said it herself that Scorpius would have a good affect on his father, and what a better way to do that than for him to be reassured that he won't follow in his footsteps? This will also give him and Rose the opportunity to conflict more, as well as bond more, and I think his friendship with Al might even be strengthened by them being in different houses. Also, he and Al are kind of foils for each other right now - one didn't want Slytherin but was expected to and got Gryffindor, and one didn't want Slytherin, wasn't expected to, and got Slytherin, so that'll be interesting :P**

 **Phew. Got that done.**

 **KARontheroad - Thank you so much! I really wanted to take this general concept that most second-gen fics have and make it my own. It means a lot :)**

 **nikkiRiddle - Just wanted to say, thank you for your reviews! It means a lot to get feedback (both good and bad) and I always enjoy reading yours! Please keep reviewing! Also, I loved your ideas on the houses, and I must say, Ravenclaw was tempting, but with where I plan on taking the characters, it would have caused some problems plot-wise. Thank you so much though and I loved reading your thoughts on the Houses!**

 **Sunnydaze - Scorp may be a Gryffindor, but he's still a Malfoy. I guess you'll have to wait and see... :3**

 **Thanks for everything! Review, follow, and favorite!**


	9. An Offer for Forgiveness

"Scorpius! What the bloody hell happened?"

Still pinned to the floor, covered in goo, Scorpius Malfoy managed, "Oh – hey, Cart Girl."

When he made no attempt to get up, Rose folded her arms and asked, "You're stuck, aren't you?"

"Yep."

Sighing, Rose took out her wand, pointed at him and warned, "This might hurt. _Wingardium Leviosa!"_

With a loud _RIP!,_ Scorpius Malfoy was levitated off the floor, finally free of the floor, and fell back to the ground.

"Well," Scorpius grunted. "That could've gone better."

Rose rolled her eyes, looking down at the blonde. "What happened?" she asked.

"Let's just say that I'm not exactly the most _popular_ among my roommates," Scorpius answered, trying to get back up. He almost succeeded, but his legs stuck back together and fell back to the ground.

"Oh God," Rose muttered, trying to once more help him to his feet. "Well, Mr. Malfoy, what are you going to do about it?"

"First, I'm getting unstuck. Then, I'm going to hex the bloody crap out of McLaggen," he cursed, as Rose tried to help him to his feet once more. This time, they succeeded. He stood tall, still covered in butterbeer syrup, but luckily, the itching powder had subsided.

Rose wrinkled her nose at the sight. "No, I'll tell you what – _first,_ you're going to take a shower. Then you can figure out this whole 'revenge' business."

" _You Weasleys and your bloody priorities,"_ she heard him mutter under his breath.

She promptly slapped him on the shoulder. Hard.

"Hey!" he shouted, rubbing his shoulder blade. "What the heck?"

"I'm trying to help you, you dimwit!" Rose scolded him. She sighed heavily and began to walk up to her room. "Have fun trying to get up the stairs, Malfoy."

The last thing she saw before turning the corner was the dreaded realization on Scorpius's face. "Wait, Weasley, I'm sorry –!"

Shutting the door softly behind her, Rose was relieved to see that none of her roommates were awake. Glancing at the clock, she realized she would have to get up in an hour or two anyway, so she made her way to the bathroom. For a moment, she almost considered going back down to help poor Malfoy get up.

Should she…?

 _Oh God no,_ she thought to herself, scoffing.

Untying her bathrobe, she felt something sticky. Malfoy had left a huge gooey smudge on her when she had been trying to help him up. Cursing, she took it to the sink and began washing it clean.

"That bloody son of a –"

0o0o0

The next morning, Rose Weasley did her best to remain awake as she took a seat beside Hera Thomas at the Gryffindor table. The two began chatting about Quidditch try-outs later that week, when Rose noticed a certain blonde enter the Great Hall.

Scorpius sent her an angry glare, as she lifted her pumpkin juice, smirking at him. Sighing, he went and sat across from her at the table.

"Weasley."

"Malfoy."

Hera raised her eyebrow at both of them but went back to discussing James' new Seeking tactics.

Then came in Albus. He stood at the doorway, unsure of where to sit. He looked from the Slytherin table to the Gryffindor table, then back again. Rose locked eyes with him as he shrugged hopelessly.

"Oh, for God's sake, come on, Al!" she called to him.

Smiling gratefully, Albus made his way over to the Gryffindor table, set down his books, and sat beside his cousin. Without a word, he was already scooping eggs onto his plate. Scorpius rolled his eyes and glanced at Rose, who stifled a giggle.

"Who are _you?"_ came a snotty voice from behind them.

Matilda Wood had her arms crossed, looking down on Al suspiciously. Her jet-black hair was in a ponytail, which was still swishing back and forth from her jog here. She was rather small for her age, the scowl on her face making up half of her height.

Before Al could answer, Rose piped up, "Relax, Matilda. He's my cousin."

"Oh," Matilda said, deadpan. "You do know that the Slytherin table's over _there,_ right?"

" _There you are!"_

Scorpius had gotten up from the table and was smiling brightly at the petite girl like she was a lost puppy. "We've been looking for you everywhere!" the boy continued enthusiastically.

" _Excuse_ me?" Matilda asked, placing a hand on her hip.

"Hagrid _told_ us he was missing a night troll! And here you are!"

Matilda's draw dropped, appalled. Rose nearly spit out a mouthful of pumpkin juice. Al placed a hand over his mouth as he crumpled into his seat, dying of laughter. Scorpius's fake smile suppressed a little, and crossing his arms, he added, "You'd better get back before he worries about you."

"I'm not a _night troll!"_ Matilda exclaimed, her brown eyes flaming with anger.

"Could've fooled me," Scorpius shrugged, sitting back down.

Rose smiled brightly at the blonde, and then glanced up to see Matilda's reaction once more. Seeing that she was outnumbered and feeling utterly humiliated, petite Gryffindor flipped her ponytail and stormed off.

With a triumphant _whoop_ , Albus high-fived Scorpius. Hera Thomas was laughing so hard that tears were streaming down her face. Rose sat for a moment, taking the scene in, grinning. In the midst of the laughter, Scorpius locked eyes with Rose, who mouthed, _Thank you._ Scorpius nodded, extending his hand.

It was an offer for forgiveness, possibly friendship. To put this morning behind them and to move forward. Sure, he was a cocky arrogant, son-of-a-fill-in-the-blank, but he had just stood up for her best friend. Taking his hand would be making a deal: "I'll annoy the crap out of you, but know that you're my friend."

And did she take it?

Yes. Yes, she did.

0o0o0

Conveniently, Gryffindor had classes with Slytherin that day. History of Magic was fine enough – but really, no one could tell you because Rose was the only one who actually stayed awake. People were lining up afterwards, begging her for copies of her notes. She was going to give them out for free, until Al had the brilliant idea of charging copies three sickles each. They made quite a mint.

Transfiguration was enjoyable enough. McGonagall still taught, and throughout the class, Rose's admiration for the woman grew even more. Even as headmistress, she still found the time to keep doing what she loved. Out of the entire class, only Rose's and Scorpius's animals resembled matchboxes, though both continued to argue throughout the day as to which one was closer. (Rose's still had a tail, and Scorpius's retained its fur.)

In Charms, Professor Flitwick took a liking to Albus immediately. He was quite skilled in the subject, he discovered, and soon found himself correcting his cousin and best friend on the pronunciation for multiple spells.

Rose had been dreading Potions all day for multiple reasons. First, it was the subject that appeared the most difficult (and incidentally, the one she had studied the most for). And second, her father and mother had warned her about Professor Slughorn – not that there was anything wrong with the man, but Rose wasn't too keen on being "collected". Her social graces were anything but excellent, as most often, someone would say something rude and her temper would get the best of her, and this would not be welcomed at the parties.

Rose was paired up with Scorpius, Hera with McLaggen, Sarah Abberley with Henry Jordan, Aaron Dunbar with Helena Macmillian, Matilda with Edmund Fiffle, and Albus was with a bored Slytherin girl named Avril Parkinson.

"No, no, no – you're supposed to _crush_ the fangs!"

"I did!"

"No, you cut them up!"

"Isn't that nearly the same thing?"

"No, it isn't!"

Albus Potter peaked over from the table behind them, smiled sarcastically, and pleaded, "Shut up because you're freaking the rest of us out. Okay? Okay."

There was a long moment of silence. Rose kept her mouth closed, stirring their mixture silently. Scorpius stared at the fangs.

"…I did crush them, you know."

"Do they _look_ like they're crushed?!"

It went on like this for another thirty minutes or so, Al periodically groaning and begging them to stop. Crushed or not, Rose and Scorpius's potion was a success, and little did they want to admit it, but they made a good team. As they were cleaning up their station afterwards, Professor Slughorn eagerly walked up to the three of them.

"Mr. Potter! Miss Weasley!" His eyes landed on Scorpius. "And Mr.…?"

"Malfoy," Scorpius answered, trying not to let his awkwardness show.

"Ah, yes! Mr.…Malfoy," Slughorn corrected. "Well, I'd like to invite you all to a little get-together with some of the other students this Friday. We're going to be having a gourmet meal, prepared by one of the –"

"But Friday is Quidditch try-outs!" Rose suddenly blurted out.

Albus shot her a look.

"Oh – er – I'm sorry," she muttered, realizing she had interrupted him.

Slughorn wasn't affected. "Oh, no, that's fine, my dear! Try to come by once you're done, eh?"

Rose nodded, embarrassed. "Yes, sir. I will."

"Very good!" Slughorn chirped, clapping his hands together. "See you all then. Oh – and my office."

The three nodded and quickly left the room, bursting into laughter once they were out of earshot. There was just _something_ about that man that they just couldn't take seriously.

Their first day came to a close, and Rose Weasley just couldn't shake off this intense sense of normalcy, but what she also couldn't shake off was the feeling that this was nothing more than the calm before the storm.

And how right she was.

0o0o0

"Professor McGonagall!"

A seemingly quiet evening in her office was interrupted when Kingsley, the Minister of Magic, came racing in. Knowing immediately that this was some sort of emergency, Minerva got up from her desk and met him halfway.

"Kingsley? What is it?" she asked, worried lines appearing on her forehead.

"Have you seen tomorrow's Prophet?"

"No, of course not. Why would I –"

Kingsley extended out his hand, a newspaper in his grasp. Minerva's eyes widened as she read over the headline.

"No," she said in a quiet whisper. "It can't be. They – they can't be serious about this!"

Kingsley nodded. "I'm afraid they are. And before we know it, there will be more and more of them. This is a movement that isn't going to be stopped – at least, easily."

McGonagall sighed, rubbing her eyes. "But what does this have to do with the school?"

"There are rumors about a spy. They're targeting young people, getting them interested in the cause, having them turn on their families. Our sources say they've slipped one of their own into Hogwarts. We don't know what House, what grade, what gender. All we know is that their plan is to gather information, report back, and infiltrate the school."

"Well, how do we stop it? Question every single student? And we aren't allowed to use Veritaserum."

"We might have to. This is only for their safety, Minerva. Surely you can understand."

"…I do. "

"Good. We need to stop this now while we still can. The last thing the wizarding world needs is a new generation of Death Eaters."

"They – they don't plan on – he's dead – they couldn't possibly –!"

"That he is, Minerva. But I doubt that's their goal. I suspect they're going to try to find someone new to lead them, someone even more powerful."

Nodding gravelly, McGonagall gathered her papers on her desk. "I'll alert the staff at once."

"But…that's not all."

"Not _all?"_

"I'm afraid that we have another situation on our hands. It's a bit closer to home."

Underneath the main article, in smaller, bolded letters, read:

LUCIUS MALFOY ESCAPES FROM PRISON

Minerva could barely make out a whisper. "He –"

Kingsley nodded, confirming what she already suspected. "He's free…and he's coming for his grandson."


	10. An Antidote for Pride

"Pour it! Pour it!"

"What do you think I'm doing, Rose?!"

"Well, _excuse me,_ but this was your idea –"

"Um, hey guys? Not that I don't enjoy this pointless argument, but we need to hurry the hell up if we're going to do this."

McLaggen began tossing and turning, feeling something sticky on his arm. Nah, it was probably just his imagination. He fell back into his dream, and it was such a good one –

Wait – no, this wasn't a dream. There really _was_ some strange, sticky sap on his arm…in fact, it was covering his entire body! He shook awake and looked at the damage. It was a strange pinkish color, almost glowing in the dark. And standing beside his bed was none other than…Scorpius Malfoy, the Potter kid, and Weasley.

"Really, syrup? That's the best you can do?" McLaggen scoffed. "Wonder where you got _that_ idea from."

"Oh contraire, Mr. McLaggen," warned Scorpius, smirking. "This is tree sap. And no _ordinary_ tree sap – this is _Bulgarian East Pine_ syrup. Our dear friend Hagrid deemed this a worthy cause and was kind enough to lend us some."

Albus stepped in. "Now, I doubt you know this, given your incredibly small brain capacity, but do you know what's the number one feeder on Bulgarian East Pine syrup?"

McLaggen's eyes landed on the large bag in Rose's hands. Something inside was desperately squirming to get out.

"Cornish pixies," answered Rose. "Enjoy."

His eyes widened.

He tried to brush the syrup off, but it was too late. Rose had let the bag loose, and hundreds of purple pixies came swarming out of it. They began attacking the syrup, lifting McLaggen off the ground some five feet above his bed.

He began panicking. "They – they aren't going to _eat_ me, are they?!"

Scorpius only laughed. "Nah, they'll stop once the syrup's all gone, but hopefully, this will teach you a lesson."

Looking from Rose to Albus and back to McLaggen, he continued, "Slytherin or not, you _never_ mess with a Malfoy."

The three of them filed out of the room, feeling the adrenalines rush of revenge. McLaggen continued to try to swat at the pixies, but that only made them more determined to get the syrup off of him. The other boys in the room were now awake and noticed that they, too, had syrup covering them. The pixies began to spread out and lift each one of them.

Right before he shut the door, Scorpius grinned and asked them, "Pretty nifty stuff, ain't it?"

McLaggen, suspended in the air, sent Malfoy a killing glare at the echo of his own words. But there was nothing he could do….for now. Scorpius shut the door behind him, turned to the ginger beside him and mentioned, "How was _that_ for 'revenge business'?"

0o0o0

Rose Weasley had never seen anything more beautiful in her life.

Six hoops stood towering above her head, like pillars of heaven, and the grass was so green that it was almost unearthly. She had been to a few Quidditch matches over the years, even one at the Quidditch World Cup, but never had she stepped onto a field like this one.

Today, the first years were going to have their first flying lesson. Matilda had spent all day bragging to Rose on her "technique" that she had, of course, learned from her father who was the best Quidditch player in the whole, entire world and she knew every single one of the Chudley Cannons…

Fed up with her, Rose turned and asked sharply, "Did your father take on and destroy one of the darkest wizards of all time?"

That shut her up. And as mean-spirited as it was, Rose was proud that she had won.

Their first instruction was to hold their hand over it and command, "Up!" Immediately, Rose's shot into her hand. However, this was not from natural talent, but years of practice. To add to her pride, she noticed that it had taken Matilda two or three tries to achieve what she had done in one.

Matilda sent her a glare from across the field, but Rose just smiled at her, deflecting it.

Beside her, she saw that Al was having a great deal of trouble getting his up. It levitated for a few moments, wobbled back and forth, and then fell to the ground.

"Stupid school brooms," he muttered, though both he and Rose knew that it was less to blame on the ancient brooms than it was on Al's devastating lack of skill.

After multiple tries, Scorpius finally got his up. He always claimed to be more of a Quidditch "watcher" than a "player", but any time he did play, he was always decent. Rose had begged him to come with her to try-outs so he could show-up McLaggen while she took care of Matilda Wood.

It didn't seem too appealing at first, but after envisioning the look on McLaggen's face if he beat him, Scorpius was sold.

Their next task was to mount the broom, hover for a few moments, then come back down. Like before, Rose accomplished it in one try…as did Matilda. Madame Hootch strolled up and down the lines of boys and girls, pausing only to say, "Splendid job, ladies," to the two of them.

"So," Matilda Wood said conversationally as they waited for further instructions, "still going for Keeper then, Weasley?"

Rose nodded. "Of course. You?"

"Why wouldn't I? Shame you're going to Slughorn's party, though. You're going to be a mess after try-outs – that is, _if_ you don't make it," she answered haughtily, picking at her broom.

Rose just rolled her eyes. " _You're_ going to Slughorn's party?"

Scoffing, Matilda replied, "My father's a pro Quidditch player. Slughorn would have to be crazy not to invite me. But I'm sure with you, he _had_ to…sort of a pity-invitation. I mean, not to be _rude,_ but what did your father do again? Follow Harry Potter around like a lost puppy? "

This hit close to home. Rose tucked a strand of flaming red hair behind her ear, turned to face Matilda, and blatantly said, "You're a lot of talk for someone so short. Compensating for something?"

Before Matilda could answer, Madame Hootch began speaking, a Quaffle in her hands, "Now that you've all mastered the basics, we're going to play a game. This is sort of a mini-low-ground-version of Quidditch – now, no one hovers above ten feet or you're out of Hogwarts before you can say, 'Quidditch'. Got it?"

The crowd murmured in agreement. Al shot Rose a look, knowing how tempted she would be to push the limit. All she could do was roll her eyes.

"Now," she continued, "I'm going to call you up in pairs…how about…Miss Weasley and Miss Wood?"

 _Of course,_ thought Rose. They grabbed their brooms and made their way to the center of the field. Madame Hootch came between them.

"I'm going to toss the Quaffle in the air, and the first person to get it to their side of the field –" She waved her wand and two goals appeared. "– wins. Mount your brooms!"

Doing so, Matilda faced her rival, a fierce look on her face.

"Have fun out there, Weasley. Try not to break a nail."

"You, too, Wood. Watch out for night trolls."

With the loud shrill of her whistle, Madame Hootch tossed the Quaffle into the air. Immediately, Rose shoved Wood out of the way and grabbed hold of it, making her way to the other side of the field. As she was almost halfway, Wood caught up and shoved her hard in the shoulder, knocking it out of her hands. The two raised side-to-side across the field, until Rose whipped the back of her broom around and threw the Quaffle into the air. Both of them soared upwards, both clawing to grab the ball.

"TEN FEET!" Madame Hootch called. "I said, TEN FEET!"

Neither of them cared. They spiraled upwards, up and up and up, until both were nearly surrounded by cloud. The ball, reaching its net velocity, began to fall towards the earth like a meteor

And at the last moment, Rose snatched the ball and made a nose-dive toward her side of the field. Multiple times, Matilda tried to worm her way in, but Rose had seen this tactic before. It was a good one, but an old one, and one her father and uncle had prepared her for. At the last moment, she threw it into the goal.

Everyone cheered below, until Rose felt something hard slam into her back. She toppled down to the grass, Matilda on top of her with an infuriated expression on her face. A searing pain suddenly shot up around her shoulder blade.

"Next time," Matilda warned so only she could hear, beads of sweat falling off of her face, "it'll be something far worse."

Matilda immediately flopped onto her back next to Rose and began to moan, clutching her wrist. Madame Hootch ran over to the two girls.

"Oh dear – this is the third year that's happened – what hurts?"

"My wrist!" Matilda cried. "She broke my wrist!"

Through her _real_ pain, Rose protested, "I – I didn't! She – she hit my shoulder!"

Madame Hootch felt her shoulder and upper back. "Oh, it's not just that, I'm afraid. Looks like a fractured collarbone as well. Potter! Take her to the Hospital Wing!"

"B-But I have Qu-Quidditch try-outs!"

"Hopefully Madame Pomfrey can fix you up in time," Madame Hootch said, helping Rose to her feet.

Matilda sat up, continuing to whine. "And what about _my_ injury?!"

Madame Hootch only sighed, standing up. "I'm afraid Madame Pomfrey doesn't have an antidote for _pride,_ my dear."

Albus came running to his cousin and put his arm around her waist, keeping her upright. Soon after him came Scorpius, who looked both worried and exhilarated.

"That was _amazing!_ You should've seen the look on her face when – are you okay?" he realized, his eyes landing on her. He turned to Albus. "Is she okay?"

"DOES IT LOOK LIKE I'M OKAY?"

"Oh, yeah. She's fine," Al answered, grunting as he half-carried her to the castle. "God, you're heavy!"

Scorpius laughed. "Only because you weigh, like, eighty pounds."

"Ninety!" Al protested, laughing.

"GUYS. INJURED GIRL. HOSPITAL WING. WALK."

Scorpius stepped back. "Okay, okay! Is she always this uptight?"

Al explained, "I call it her 'Quidditch Angst'. When something goes wrong on the field, she gets cranky. _Really_ cranky."

"BROKEN COLLARBONE. POPPED SHOULDER."

"That, too," he added.

Scorpius looked confusedly at the injured girl. "But you won," he pointed out.

Al just shook his head. "Doesn't matter. She's still angry at Matilda – you just better pray that Madame Pomfrey sedates her while she sets the bones back in place."

"SHUT UP."

0o0o0

"We plan on starting questioning tomorrow – that's why we've held back all mail-order issues of the Daily Prophet. We don't want the spy to read about it and know we're onto him. Though of course, he or she would've probably heard about it already…"

"Very good. And the Veritaserum?"

"Small dosages each. All within regulations. The last thing we want is to harm those who are innocent."

"What about the boy, Malfoy?"

"We're keeping a close eye on him, Kingsley, but there's not much we can do without being too suspicious. He's a bright child – he'd know something was wrong."

"You're not worried?"

"He's got good friends that are taking care of him. I doubt they'd allow anything to happen to him."

"But they're only children, Minerva. Things can happen."

"Yes, of course, and that's why we are taking precautions. But there's going to come a point where the children will find out about it anyway, and when they do, I hope they pull through. For his sake."

"The poor child…facing Hogwarts with such a bad family reputation."

"Yes. But if these children are anything like their parents, they'll pull through for him no matter what. You'll see."

0o0o0

A few hours later, Rose was sitting upright in a hospital bed. Madame Pomfrey had fixed her collarbone up and popped her shoulder back in place, which didn't hurt as much as they anticipated. According to Madame Pomfrey, she should be up on her feet in the next few hours around bedtime.

Rose leaned back and tried to rest, like she had been instructed to do, and all the while thinking about that psychopath Matilda Wood.

She was going to beat her at try-outs, alright. Or die trying.

Suddenly, the doors flew open and none other than James Potter came walking into the room.

"James?" Rose asked. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

The tall third year shoved his hands into his pockets. "Came to see you, of course! My dear cousin! My own flesh-and-blood!"

Rose raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, okay, no, but I just _had_ to come see you. The whole school's talking about it! How you took down Matilda Wood! _The_ Matilda Wood! _Oliver Wood's_ daughter!"

"God, she's such a prat," Rose muttered.

"Who cares! Either way, Rose, _everyone's_ talking about how you caught that Quaffle, even though it was _way_ out of Hootch's boundaries, but even more so, how you pummeled the spawn of one of the best Quidditch players on earth!" James explained enthusiastically. "And ever since then, I can't tell you how many people came running up to me, asking if you were going to be on the team and what position. They're scared you're going to take their places!"

"Well – I'm just going for Keeper, so they don't have to worry. Henry Pitchcloff graduated last year, so I –"

"Forget about that – you're going to be Seeker."

Rose's jaw dropped. Confusion flooded in.

"W-What do you mean, _Seeker?"_ she stuttered. " _You're_ Seeker!"

James brushed it off. "Like you said at the Platform, I can't even remember the last time I caught a snitch. I just took the position because A – no one else could do it, and B – I'm Harry Potter's son, so everyone else took a gigantic step back."

She was still at a loss for words. "B-But what are you going to do now?"

"Maybe I'll be a Beater. I've always wanted to have an excuse to wack the crap out of Finnigan," he laughed. "That kid drives me insane…"

"So…?"

James rolled his eyes. " _So,_ are you up for it or not?"

Rose was quiet for a moment. No – she wasn't supposed to be a Seeker. She was a Keeper. That was what her dad was, what she had always trained for, what she played in Little League. And now, after catching a high-speed Quaffle, she was supposed to completely change?

"But I'm a Keeper," she said quietly.

James smirked and shook his head. "That's not what I've heard."

Rose took a shaky breath. "…fine, yes. I'll take it."

He began enthusiastically clapping for her, slowing leaving the room. "Encore, encore! Rose Weasley, my dearest cousin and compadre, the greatest Gryffindor Seeker of all time –!"

"You can go now, James," Rose groaned, but also trying not to smile.

Of course, he wouldn't listen. As he left the room, he was still chanting, "It's a bird! It's a plane! BY GOD, IT'S SOME INSANE GINGER ON A BROOM –!"


	11. Bruises of All Kinds

"You're alive!" Albus Potter cried, smiling, as his cousin finally walked out of the Hospital Wing. "I thought I'd never see you again!"

Rose just laughed. "Or worse, that I'd never play Quidditch again."

They began walking down the hall and down the main hallway. Albus filled her in on the details she had missed out on – Matilda had stormed off with Sarah and spent the rest of the day crying over the "utter humiliation of being beaten by a _ginger"_ , James had broken the news that Gryffindor had a new Seeker, which both cheered Matilda and angered her even more, and Phineas Finnigan was now hiding in the boy's bathroom until someone confiscated James's bat.

They turned the corner, and passing McGonagall's office, saw a long line of students being slowly filed into the room. A few professors were watching over the line, making sure no one made a run for it.

"What the –?" Rose started, but then, spotting April Clearwater, she ran over and asked, "April, what's going on?"

The blonde looked around, and her voice dropped down to a whisper. "McGonagall's questioning all the Ravenclaws. We don't know what about, but it seems serious. Someone said they were using Veritaserum."

A look passed between the two cousins. "And it's _just_ Ravenclaws?"

April shook her head. "McGonagall's taking it House by House. We're just first."

Rose nodded nervously. "Okay – thanks, April." Once they had left the line, she quickly grabbed Al by the hand and pulled him into an empty corridor. A few trash bins stood along the wall, but no students or teachers were going by. Checking to make sure that no one happened to be glancing their way, Rose whispered, "What was that all about? Why is she questioning students?"

"McGonagall wouldn't do anything unless it was for a good reason," Al thought aloud.

"Well, of course, but why wouldn't she tell us?" Rose wondered. "How big would it have to be for her to –?"

"Rose."

"– not tell us? I mean, if we were in danger, she would have to. So it must be something important, but not to the point where our lives are in peril. At least, not yet –"

"Rose."

"– or I don't think so. Maybe? I don't know, it's hard to say. If they're using Veritaserum, than maybe they're trying to pin someone for a crime –"

"Rose Ginevra Weasley!"

Finally noticing her cousin, Rose turned and asked, "What is it?"

Al's eyes were wide, pointing straight at one of the trash bins. He looked as though he had just seen a ghost. Following the direction of his finger, Rose looked inside the first bin. There was nothing in there except for a newspaper. She almost laughed at her terrified cousin, but then her eyes landed on the headline:

NEW GENERATION OF DEATH EATERS INSIDE HOGWARTS

Her heart began thumping wildly in her chest. _This_ was what McGonagall was questioning students about! _This_ was why she was calling in one House at a time! She quickly read over the article. "Rumors of a spy" – Death-Eater-esque rallies in "underground locations" – "evil propaganda", much like what she seen at Kings Cross –

Then she glanced over the bottom half of the front page. Her heart, instead of quickening even more, almost stopped completely. She stumbled back a few steps and slid down on the wall, sitting. Death Eaters inside of Hogwarts, huh? No – that was child's play compared to this.

LUCIUS MALFOY ESCAPES FROM PRISON

"Security breach" – "second ever to escape" – "wizard guards didn't stand a chance" – "Should dementors be brought back in?" – "seeking revenge –"

Rose swallowed. "Oh," was all she could make out.

Not only were there Death Eaters inside Hogwarts. One was already on his way…and he was coming for…

Rose jolted up, folded the newspaper, and stuck it in her pocket. "We have to find Scorpius!" she cried, breaking out into a run.

"Wait, Rose! Stop!" called Albus, trying to catch up to her. But she kept running, out the door, past the line of Ravenclaws, and towards the staircases leading to Gryffindor tower.

Al tried again, "Rose, stop! They're at dinner, so you shouldn't –"

Without listening to another word, Rose made a one-eighty turn and began running towards the Great Hall. She had just reached the great, wooden doors, when she felt two scrawny arms wrap around her waist, slowing her down. Whipping her head around, she saw Albus on his knees, grabbing her.

"Rose – stop! We need to think about this!"

Rose tried to shake him off. "He's our friend! We have to find him and tell him! Now _let_ _go of me!_ "

"You need to listen to me!"

"No, I don't! If you don't let go right now, Albus Severus Potter, I'm going to rip your arms off!"

"No, you're not –"

"I'm stronger than you, and you know it!"

"ROSE WEASLEY, WILL YOU SHUT UP?"

Her brown eyes met his green, and the raging fire in her subsided. Letting go of the door-handles, she took a step back and sighed. Al unlatched himself from her and stood up, straightening out his robes.

"Rose," Al tried again, calmly, "you can't tell him. Not now."

"But we need to protect him!"

"You know Scorpius!" he tried to explain. "He's going to want to take action! Use revenge on revenge! The best way to keep him safe is to not let him know!"

"But –"

"McGonagall knows about it already, and I'm sure she's doing everything she can to protect him. We need to do our part, too," Al explained.

Rose glanced at the door, still unconvinced.

"Look," he continued, his voice becoming quieter, "family is a touchy subject with Scorp. Who knows what happened with his father and his grandfather? We know only a little – them leaving the battle, Lucius being imprisoned for working for You-Know-Who – but everything that happened before and after is a mystery to us.

"He's after Scorpius, we know that. You tell him, and he's going to do something stupid. Brave, maybe, but incredibly stupid. So here's what we do – keep it between us and keep an eye on him. We won't let anything happen to Scorpius as long as he's with us. He's _going_ to find out eventually, I can promise you that, but in the meantime, let's just keep him safe. Okay?"

Rose stared hard at her cousin, a furious look on her face.

He stared back.

She stared even harder.

So did he.

"FINE!" Rose groaned, throwing her hands up in the air and storming away from the Great Hall. "You win! Are you happy now?"

Albus's serious expression broke into a smirk. "Yes," he admitted.

Rose continued to stamp off towards Gryffindor Tower, muttering things like, " _He thinks he's so smart,"_ and, " _Well, when Scorpius gets brutally murdered, he'll be sorry."_

"Rose?" Albus called as she began to ascend towards her House.

Rose whipped her head around, red, flaming curls going everywhere. " _What?"_ she spat.

Albus smiled sheepishly and stuck a thumb towards the Great Hall. "Dinner?"

"UGH!" she groaned, stomping back towards the very place he had been trying to prevent her from going. She threw the door open and was greeted by the loud buzz of chatter and the delicious smells of tonight's menu. But she didn't enjoy any of it. How could she, when she hadn't won the argument?

Spotting Scorpius's blonde hair, Rose made her way towards the Gryffindor table, took a seat, and began plowing her way through a mountain of mashed potatoes without a word.

Scorpius looked at the ginger, and then at her cousin.

"Is she okay?" he asked, wearing a look that was between confusion and amusement.

Albus just sighed and sat beside him.

"Oh, she'll get over it."

0o0o0

The week dragged to a close. The next day, Gryffindor House had been called in to be questioned, but everyone had passed with "flying colors" as McGonagall had put it when they asked her about it in class. Everything seemed to be going well…until the last House had been called – Hufflepuff – and the spy had still not been found. Each professor had his or her own explanation. "Faulty Veritaserum," Flitwick suggested. Slughorn, who had concocted it himself, had other ideas. "Imperius curse," he offered. Others, like Professor Longbottom, thought that maybe there was no spy at all, and it was simply a tactic to distract them from the real situation at hand. But through it all, McGonagall had a terrible feeling in her stomach, knowing that it had to be something far worse.

After multiple counsels with the Minister, they had decided that the best course of action was…to coin a phrase…"fight fire with fire" and see if anything would burn.

Friday had rolled around. James had forced Rose to show up anyway so he could use her Quidditch expertise to his advantage. In the end, Rose found that _she_ had actually placed most of the players.

"Alright, everyone! Eyes on me!" James announced at the beginning of try-outs. The crowd snapped to attention, looking up at the tall brunette. Rose stood slightly to his left, unsure what to do.

"Welcome to Quidditch try-outs!" he continued. "For half of you, this will be the best day of your entire lives. For the other half, I've left some business cards for a psychiatrist in the locker room." There were more than a few murmurs from the crowd, but James dismissed them. He turned to his cousin beside him.

Rose had managed to force her untamable hair into a ponytail, which stuck out like the back of a broom. She did her best to smile at the crowd, ignoring Matilda's death stare. Scorpius winked at her from the crowd, and Rose just rolled her eyes, smiling. Then, she felt pang of guilt…he had no idea that his life could be at stake. _No,_ she thought, shaking it off, _Albus is right. This is the best._

"This is our new Seeker, Rose Weasley!" he said to the crowd, gesturing to his cousin. Rose waved.

"WHOO! WHOO!"

"Shut up, Al, you're not even trying out!" James shouted to the stands. "SLYTHERIN!" He turned back to the crowd of nervous Gryffindors clad in Quidditch gear. " _Anyway,_ she'll be helping me today. Anyone who has any problem with that – _cough_ MATILDA _cough –_ can go hug the Whomping Willow. Okay? Okay. Keepers first."

A handful of people came over towards James, separating from the group. Matilda was among them, of course, but something surprised her – so was Scorpius.

"You're going for Keeper?" Rose asked, raising an eyebrow.

Scorpius looked offended. "Don't look so _surprised,_ Weasley. If you aren't going to be Keeper and you certainly don't want Matilda to be Keeper, why not me?"

"Huh," Rose admitted. "I guess I never really thought about that."

Tapping his head obviously, he muttered, "Logic, Weasley. Logic."

"Oh, you want to talk to _me_ about _logic?"_

James gathered the Keepers and arranged them into a single-file line. He looked back towards the two of them and called, "Hey, Malfoy! If you're done flirting with my cousin, I think we'll start try-outs now."

Rose's face went red with embarrassment, and Scorpius jogged over to join the group.

James had four Keepers go at a time. One was assigned to guard each set of goals, while another would try to score in their goal. They were given ten tries, and then another four would go up. Rose sat on the ground below and took notes, though she would've much rather been up there actually _playing._

Matilda looked so odd on her broom – she had the new Firebolt ("My father wouldn't allow me to have anything but the very _best"_ ), which was a larger model, and it looked even larger in comparison to her tiny body. Size aside, she wore a fierce expression on her face, refusing to fail. Overall, she did well. She caught eight out of the ten, and then got five out of the ten shots. Rose _knew_ that she had to be impartial, but she couldn't help noting flaws in her technique.

A few more went up, including Henry Jordan, one of Scorpius's roommates. Some were decent – others, not so much.

Then it was Scorpius's turn. And was she surprised?

YES.

He stopped nine out of the ten shots, and then made another eight. Rose wished she had a camera – the expression on Jeffrey McLaggen's face was priceless. Every time he made a shot, James would turn back to his cousin and wiggle his eyebrows, in which Rose would roll her eyes in response. Al was cheering at the top of his lungs and booing for Matilda the whole time. Rose made a mental note to thank him later.

Relieved that she wouldn't have to worry about bias, she circled Scorpius's name twice with her quill and watched the sweaty Keepers come back to her side of the field.

"Not – not bad, huh, W-Weasley?" said an out-of-breath Scorpius, taking a seat beside her on the grass.

Rose smiled and began to rant on about his amazing skill. "You were – I mean – I don't think that I –"

Scorpius smirked.

Stopping herself, Rose punched him on the arm playfully. "Don't get a big head, Malfoy," she warned, but Scorpius just grinned at her knowingly.

Next up were the Beaters, who were all extremely nervous, knowing that only one spot was now open as James had taken the other. Among them were a few fourth years, a second year, Sarah Abberley, and McLaggen.

Sarah and the second year were first. James would fly around on his broom at lightning speed, covered from head to toe in padding and armor, and have two Beaters try to wack him. Sarah flew around a bit, almost got him, and then proceeded to cry. Flying off the field in a fit of tears and muttering harsh comments about her lack of skill, Sarah left the second year to fend for himself. He ended up doing a decent job, however, and was a strong candidate for the position.

Next were two of the fourth years. Both took a few wacks at James, but nothing extraordinary. Then, it was McLaggen's turn.

He went up with another fourth year, who was bigger and brawnier than him in every way. Jeffrey only had gotten one good hit in when the fourth year shoved him out of the way and hit James a good ten times. When he had landed, James stumbled toward Rose and muttered, "That's no fourth year…more like freakin' _Goliath."_

By the time the Chasers were done, which included Hera Thomas, Henry Jordan, Phineas Finnigan, and two other sixth years, Rose and James were exhausted. James was covered in bruises of all shapes and kinds, and Rose's hand hurt from writing so much. The ending line-up looked like this:

SEEKER: Rose Weasley

BEATERS: James Potter and Christopher "Goliath" Higgleton

KEEPER: Scorpius Malfoy

CHASERS: Phineas Finnigan, Hera Thomas, and Henry Jordan

Rose stayed longer to help James clean up (Hootch would have a fit if they left it a mess), and Scorpius waited for her, claiming he had forgotten the password anyway. Albus had fallen asleep in the stands, and they hadn't bothered to wake him yet. All the way back to the dormitories, Scorpius, who refused to be patient, was nagging Rose about the list.

"Tell me."

"No."

"You know you want to."

"No."

"I can see it in your eyes."

"No."

"It's extremely obvious that you want to."

"No."

"FOR GOD'S SAKE, SCORP, SHE'S NOT GOING TO TELL YOU!"

And when the two of them had gotten back to the Common Room, an extremely pleasant surprise awaited them.

She was sitting cross-legged on the couch in front of the blazing fire, stirring a cup of tea in her hands. It had been a long, long day, for professors and students alike. Her gray hair was slightly askew in its bun, and yet she retained her composure like a general in the midst of war.

"Mr. Malfoy, Miss Weasley," said Professor McGonagall with a stern look on her face. "I need to see you in my office. Immediately."


	12. Author's Note 3

**Hiya guys! We're really starting to get into the thick of it now! I have a lot of really cool ideas I can't wait to try out - let's just say that things will only get messier from here :P Again, thank you guys so much for following and reviewing! It means a lot.**

 **But I've loved writing these last few chapters! This is the point where Al, Rose, and Scorp are beginning to settle into things at Hogwarts (and in the fashion of Harry Potter, this means things only get crazier from here). Aside from the three, James is a character that I thought would be kind of a chore to write, but soon enough, I just fell in love with the kid. I'm really glad you guys like him, too! The thing about James is, though he's a prankster and** ** _supremely_** **outspoken, he does care about his family, and most importantly, his little brother.**

 **Also, if you've noticed, I did add a dash of ScorRose in the last chapter. Yes, I know, they're eleven, which means I can't go full out :( but I did want to have James make a snarky comment about them "flirting." I adore the two of them together, as they are my Harry Potter OTP, but there won't be anything too romantic in this tale...it's depressing, I know, but they're FIRST YEARS.**

 **Some things I'm curious about:**

 **\- I've given you mine, so what are your thought about James? Likey?**

 **\- Thoughts on the Quidditch try-outs and the outcomes? I know literally** ** _nothing_** **about how sports try-outs work, but I took what I knew from the** ** _imaginary_** **sport and did my best.**

 **\- Thoughts on the ScorRose banter and relationship?**

 **\- Predictions on what the heck is going on with the Hogwarts spy and why McGonagall needs to speak with them? (These are always so fun to read! But I promise that I'm not asking for ideas - I know very well where they're going... :3)**

 **\- Thoughts, suggestions, ect. on the Rose/Matilda rivalry? I imagine it as the more competitive, catty girl edition of the Harry/Draco relationship. Also, on the Scorpius/McLaggen one?**

 **\- Predictions on Lucius's escape? Remember, this man** ** _is/was_** **a Death Eater, but he also did leave the Battle. Coward? Good guy? Neither?**

 **\- Did you like Scorp's revenge? It was so fun to write!**

nikkiRiddle **\- love the nickname! XD And thank you once again - Rose being a Seeker is another step forward in her journey to really becoming her own person. Glad you liked it!**

KARontheroad **\- Sorry about the cliffhanger! (mwahahaha) But I'm glad you like the Rose/Al relationship. They're so cute together, and as cousins AND best friends, they would do anything for each other. Thanks :)**

 **Thanks, everyone! Ch. 12 is on the way!**


	13. Expiration Dates

Professor McGonagall led them out of the Common Room and down the staircases. No one spoke, like a silent band of mercenaries. It was around dinnertime, so students were either eating in the Great Hall, in the library studying, snogging in empty classrooms, or stuck in awkward small-talks with Slughorn. _Slughorn!_ Rose realized. _That's our way out of this!_

Nudging the blonde boy beside her, she whispered, "Slughorn's party."

Scorpius's eyes lit up at the idea. Clearing his throat, he told the headmistress, "Professor, you see, we've been invited to Professor Slughorn's dinner party, and we really can't miss it –"

The old professor didn't miss a trick. "Yes, you can, Mr. Malfoy. And I do have a bit of information that will ease your conscience – Professor Slughorn's party has been post-poned until tomorrow due to…circumstances."

"W-What kind of circumstances?" Rose managed.

The headmistress gave her a look but said nothing.

She led them down the main corridor and towards a large silver statue of a phoenix. Rose was confused. Where was her office? Was there a secret entrance, or…?

"Lemon drop," said Professor McGonagall clearly.

The large statue began to twist and turn upwards, making a loud rumbling sound. As it disappeared towards the ceiling above, it unveiled a secret spiral of stone stairs underneath its wing. Finally, it stopped.

"Wicked," Rose Weasley whispered, looking up at it.

McGonagall nodded. "Indeed, Miss Weasley. As for the password, I had no choice in the matter. Dumbledore left it that way when he passed, and I haven't been able to change it to anything else. Not that I'd want to." She ushered them forward, up the cobbled steps. "Now, follow me."

The three of ascended the stairs. As they walked on, fear crept into her mind. Were they in trouble? Rose couldn't recall them doing anything wrong – well, besides getting revenge on McLaggen…that was it! McLaggen had told! Now, only a week in, she, Scorpius, and Al would be shipped back home forever…

They reached a large, wooden door with a bronze nob. McGonagall reached forward and turned it, and with a loud creak, they were inside her office. There were bookshelves that seemed to tower to the heavens, full to the brim of every spell book imaginable. There were cages lining the walls with animals, birds of all sorts, a few chickens, dogs, and a few toads. What was most peculiar was a large, empty birdcage beside her desk. A few crimson feathers littered the bottom, along with a great deal of ash, but it contained no animal. The door to it was ajar, as if something had been set free or gotten loose.

Minerva McGonagall had done her best following Dumbledore's passing, make no mistake about that. Her job was to pick up the pieces of the horrible ordeal the school had been through and put it back together as gently and precisely as she could. She established two annual memorial services – one on Albus Dumbledore's passing date and the other on the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. On that date, all the families of survivors and those they had lost gathered in the courtyard. Every year since its creation, Harry Potter would give a speech, thanking those who had sacrificed their lives and reminiscing about his days at the school. The first year, Minerva had been very anxious to have Harry speak, as it was unclear whether or not it would be well-received. But she had nothing to worry about. By the end of his speech, the audience was in tears and gave him a standing ovation. Since then, he's never disappointed.

Rose and Scorpius were amazed by the room. It was the most beautiful and intimidating place they had ever seen. Minerva noticed this, and pointed out with a soft smile, "I tried to keep most of it the same, but of course, I had to add in the cages to keep the animals we use for Transfiguration."

Scorpius pointed to the empty birdcage. "What about that?"

"I believe that's a fine question to ask Miss Weasley's uncle," she answered simply. The grave look returned to her face. "Have a seat, you two."

Nervously, Rose and Scorpius sat down in the two wooden chairs facing her desk. But before she had a chance to speak, Rose launched right into what she thought was the best apology the world has ever known.

"We had to do it, Professor! McLaggen was tormenting Scorpius all week, and he's such a prat, he really is, and it wasn't so much a matter of us harming him – because we honestly didn't, a few scrapes and bruises maybe – but it was more the fact that he's selfish and cruel and convinced that he's better than everyone else in Gryffindor!"

Scorpius nodded, jumping right in. "And we would never do anything _drastic._ Tops, maybe he lost a few clumps of hair, but his head's so big anyway –"

"Scorpius!" Rose scolded. "We're apologizing!"

"Well, I am!"

"If that's your idea of an apology, then I feel sorry for –"

"Miss Weasley! Mr. Malfoy!" McGonagall shouted, and the two Gryffindors silenced. "It seems to me that we're not on the same page."

"You're _not_ expelling us for –?"

Minerva shook her head. "No one is getting expelled, Miss Weasley, but now that you've brought this to my attention, I think you should know that I am fully aware of what took place with Mr. McLaggen, and I would suggest that we not discuss this…that is, unless you would like for me to administer detentions."

Rose sunk into her seat.

"Thanks, Rosie," Scorpius muttered sarcastically. Rose shot him a look.

McGonagall cleared her throat, regained her composure, and continued, "I've called you both in here for quite a different reason. As you may be aware, we have been conducting full-scale inquiries with each and every student that attends Hogwarts."

Rose swallowed, trying hard – _so_ hard – to look innocent and unknowing. Seeing Scorpius's face out of her peripheral vision, she tried to mimic it, but total innocence is so difficult to claim when you're totally guilty.

McGonagall straightened her spectacles. "The reason for these inquiries, however, has been kept secret. We were afraid that by making our reasons known, the person at fault may try to flee, or worse, retaliate."

"Retaliate?" Scorpius repeated, listening.

Minerva McGonagall nodded. "The Ministry has been having quite a bit of trouble as of late. There have been uprisings, rallies, propaganda. Nothing too serious, at least, as of yet. The difficult thing is that they always meet in far-off locations and travel in small numbers. We do not know yet who their leader is, only that they are only growing larger. But the most terrifying thought is who might join them. Following the Second War, there has been no shortage of enemies – previous Death Eaters, their families, or even simply those who do not agree with the new policies under Kingsley's rule."

Rose played along. "But what does this have to do with –?"

McGonagall held up her hand, stopping her question. "The bottom line is that there is a new generation of Death Eaters among us. And what's worse…our sources say…they have a spy within Hogwarts."

Scorpius's jaw dropped to the floor. " _In_ Hogwarts?"

"We have searched and searched, but to no avail. If there is indeed a spy, he or she has magical capabilities that prevent the effects of Veritaserum. And though we instructed each student not to discuss their individual questions, undoubtedly, the whole school knows by now."

Sighing, McGonagall got up from her chair and walked towards one of the many shelves that lined her walls. She took out a tan folder and a single piece of paper inside, and she sat back down, handing the paper to the two of them. Rose immediately recognized it as a copy of what the man – Andrew Smolting? Smeeling? Smetling? – had tried to give to her mother.

SICK OF OUR SOCIETY BEING TAINTED BY:

MUDBLOODS? SQUIBS? HALF-BLOODS?

SICK OF OUR CORRUPTED MINISTER AND HIS BLASPHEMING FOLLOWERS?

LET YOUR VOICE NO LONGER BE SILENCED!

 _"_ _FREED BLOOD" RALLY TO BE HELD ON SEPTEMBER 7_

 _MEET AT KING'S CROSS AT 11:00_

NO LONGER BE IMPRISONED BY THE MINISTRY'S MIND GAMES.

SET YOUR BLOOD FREE.

" _Freed Blood…_?" Rose muttered, reading. "There was a man at King's Cross! He was trying to hand these out!"

McGonagall nodded. "They thrive on the allegiance of young people. I suspect they were hoping to round up a few more from Hogwarts."

Scorpius had gone pale, staring down at the paper in his lap. Seeing this, Rose nudged him with her arm, whispering, " _Are you okay?_ " He just nodded, still looking stony-faced.

"Mr. Malfoy?" McGonagall asked him curiously. "Something wrong?"

"No, no, I was just…" Scorpius set the paper back on her desk. "…it's just upsetting, that's all. That people are still going on about this."

Rose wasn't fooled. Something was wrong, and she intended to grill him later.

McGonagall looked suspicious as well, but continued, "I've been in conference with Kingsley, and we have decided on a course of action. But it is dangerous. _Very_ dangerous."

Rose looked at Scorpius, then at the headmistress. "Professor?"

"If they're sending in spies, we're going to as well. After much deliberation, we've chosen you two."

Scorpius and Rose gaped back at her. " _Us?"_

Rose was struggling to find the words. "Why would you need _us?_ We're first years! Wouldn't you need someone older?"

McGonagall sighed and stood. "You would think so," she began, "but our intel from their previous meetings say that the age range is mainly ten to eighteen, and Kingsley needs two children around that age he can trust.

"Not only are both of your parents' trusted by the Ministry – Miss Weasley's father and mother both being employees and Mr. Malfoy's father being on the advisory board for years now – but you are by far the most intelligent and, dare I say, _bravest_ students in your year. I understand both of you have had to overcome obstacles in the past week, especially you, Mr. Malfoy, and it's the way you have overcome these situations that have made you perfect candidates."

"I still don't understand why you chose _us,"_ Rose said, still stunned, "Why not a seventh year? Or someone from a different House?"

McGonagall nodded and replied, "Kingsley asked me to choose two students within my own House, as we Gryffindors are known for our bravery and I would do a better job selecting them. As for your age, I'm afraid that is purely coincidence. When it boiled down to it, we were surprised to find that the older students lacked…well… _maturity."_

 _"_ _James,"_ Rose muttered under her breath, crossing her arms.

"And from everything I've seen in the past week, nothing has convinced me more that you two are the students for the job. Your parents will be contacted – if you agree to it – and they will have to back your decision in order for you to be allowed to go.

"We need an inside personnel to attend the meeting, collect what information they can, and report back. This is a recruitment meeting, so we doubt anything impertinent will be said, but at the moment, the ministry is flying blindly when it comes to this. You will, of course, have Aurors on call should anything happen, and we will do all we can to ensure your safety. They will most likely meet at the train station, and once they sort out the frauds, take everyone to a more disclosed setting. If they could send one of their own, they would get a better sense as to what this 'Freed Blood's plan is and how to stop them. Unfortunately, no one within the Ministry is under the age of eighteen, so Kingsley reached out to me."

Scorpius broke the silence, "But what makes you so convinced that we can do it?"

Minerva sat back in her chair. "As headmistress, I notice things. Things like…" Her eyes drifted towards Rose. "…students out of bed…." Rose blushed. "…practical jokes…" Both of them looked down, red in the face. "…or even simply standing up for a friend. Exhibiting these traits this early on, it's rather remarkable."

Before the two Gryffindors could say anything, McGonagall said again, "But I must stress the seriousness and possible danger of the situation. We will do our best to ensure your safety, and we doubt anything harmful will occur, should your identities remain secret, but altogether, it is very risky. But the Ministry needs you. The last thing we need is for this to grow into another…what happened before, and even before then. You would be doing a great service." She folded her hands in her lap. "Personally, I think it's insane, to send children in there, but Kingsley has made it quite clear that this is the most concise form of action and he believes it will be extremely beneficial."

Rose didn't know what else to say. _Going undercover?_ It was insane. It was crazy. It was just… But McGonagall trusted her. The Ministry needed her. And somehow, the idea excited her. It was a mission entrusted to her and only her (unless you count Malfoy). Her mother, her father, and her uncle had done their part in stopping the Death Eaters of their generation, and now, it was her turn.

A small smile crept up on her lips.

It _was_ her turn. It was daring, insane, maybe. But she was needed, and if this wasn't a way to carve her own path to greatness, she didn't know what was.

So when McGonagall finally asked, "Are you up for the task?" Rose nodded, a sense of adventure washing over her. She was needed – not because she was a Weasley, but because she herself was something "remarkable."

"I – I can't. I'm sorry," muttered Scorpius, getting up from his chair. "I really am –" And he left the room hurriedly, leaving behind an extremely worried and confused Rose Weasley.

"I'll…go get him…" Rose mumbled and ran after him, down the winding stone staircase, and into the hallway.

She looked around, but she couldn't see Scorpius anywhere. A few students trickled in and out, on their way to bed, but the blonde boy's location remained a mystery. She was about to turn back and make up some excuse for him, when she heard a soft sniffling coming from one of the side corridors.

Turning left, Rose saw the door to one of the empty classrooms slightly ajar. She peeked inside, and sure enough, there sat Malfoy in one of the desks, his head in his hands. Was he _crying?_

"Scorpius?" Rose asked from the doorway.

The boy in the desk sat up suddenly, his nose and eyes red from crying. At the sight of Rose, he immediately wiped his face with his sleeve, muttering, "What do you want, Weasley?"

Rose entered the room, unsure what to do in this situation. She hated seeing someone cry – she always felt so helpless, like there were a million different things she could do, but only one thing that she should. And what that thing was, she had no idea.

"What was that all about?" she asked, trying not to sound angry. "…Scorpius?"

He got out of the desk and was staring out the window, his arms folded. His face was still pink and wet from crying, and she could tell he was doing his best to not show his face.

"I can't do it," he whispered to the glass. "Rose, I just can't do it. You can go, but it's not for me."

Rose walked towards him. "What do you mean?" she asked.

He let out an exasperated sigh. Turning to face her, he said, "You're a Weasley! A Granger! Harry Potter's _freaking_ niece! You – just – go and fight Death Eaters without me, okay? Send me a post card from the ministry."

He went to get past her, but Rose blocked his path.

"Rose, just – stop. I'm not changing my mind."

But Rose blocked him again, saying, "No. I'm not leaving until you tell me what's really going on."

"I just – I don't want to go! That's all, okay? Let me through –"

"No, that's not it. You think I'm an idiot, Malfoy, but I'm not."

"I never said you were one! Rose, please, it's not a big deal. It's just not for me."

Rose stood there, looking at the boy in front of her. He was scared of something, she could tell. Scared of the mission? Scared of her? Then, it came to her.

"It's your dad, isn't it?" she asked, realization dawning on her. "Your family. That's why you don't want to go."

Scorpius opened his mouth to reply, but turned around, his back facing the concerned red-headed girl.

"It's more complicated than you think," he whispered. "It's like – all your life, you're branded. _'The Death Eater's Son'._ And there comes a point where it just becomes a part of you, and sometimes, you don't even notice that it's there. But when I came to Hogwarts, it just reminded me how much it still is." He smiled softly, remembering a memory. "When I was little, the kids at the playground used to call me _Little Voldy."_

Rose gasped. Scorpius just softly chuckled.

"I know. Horrible. The things four year-old's come up with, huh?" he asked jokingly. "And I, of course, didn't help much. I'd chase them around in a blanket, saying I was going to chop their souls up into tiny little pieces. It sounds insane, but I thought it was _hilarious._ They'd all freak out – especially when my dad came around to pick me up – and I would just _laugh._ It was my way of dealing with it. If they thought that I was the spawn of some monster, fine – I'll be that monster.

His smile faded. "And that just became who I was. Of course, I didn't wear the cape and chase kids around playgrounds anymore, but over time, I just sort of accepted that the world had this kind of animosity towards me, even though I did absolutely nothing to deserve it."

He looked towards Rose, waiting for her to make some side comment about his ego, but she stayed silent and listened intently.

He continued, "I mean, you and Al – you guys are the complete opposite. Sure, you have expectations, but at least they're _good ones,_ you know what I mean? Your parents and Al's made history by being on the right side. Mine made mistakes. A lot of them. Sure, he came to in the end, but it was too late. They say that the world forgives…but only if it's not past the expiration date."

Rose finally spoke, "But you're not your dad. You didn't make those mistakes – he did."

"Doesn't matter," Scorpius replied, shaking his head. "With Potters, you assume the best. You see a Malfoy, and you can't help but assume the worst. And I've come to grips with that. It's become who I am. And now – all of the sudden – I'm supposed to be the good guy, a secret agent for the Ministry, who goes in and kicks Death Eater butt…"

He sat back down, running his hand through his hair. Rose had noticed this was a common nervous habit of his. She may not be the greatest at sympathy, but if there's one thing Rose Weasley's good at, it's observing people – getting to know them without knowing them, if that makes sense. And the pieces of the puzzle that were called Scorpius Malfoy were slowly beginning to fit together.

"For so long, I've been the Son of a Death Eater, so how am I supposed to magically turn that around and go catch a bunch of them? It's just – it's complicated," he admitted. Rose could tell he was trying his best not to cry, and she decided to make sure he didn't.

Rose faced him. "Mr. Malfoy, what House are you in?"

Scorpius sighed and rubbed his eyes, seeing where she was going with this. "Rose, that doesn't –"

"The noble House of Godric Gryffindor," she answered for him, quoting their favorite book. "Home of the brave at heart. I don't know about you, but I don't think any Death Eater's kid would be sorted there." Then, seeing that he was convinced, she continued, "You're different, Scorp. I've known you for a week, and you're already one of the bravest, most _insane_ people I know…and my cousin is James Potter."

Scorpius smiled.

"You're setting yourself up for so much less than what you can be," she promised. "Now, I'm going back in there, with or without you. You can stay here and be _Little Voldy_ or you can come with me and do something remarkable."

Scorpius looked up at her, his eyebrows knitted together tightly, thinking.

"Come on, Malfoy," Rose continued. "Don't let them stop you from becoming the person you're meant to be. You and I – we both shouldn't have been in Gryffindor, I still believe that. But that doesn't change the fact that we _are._ So…please. Do something brave. Be daring. Be a little insane, maybe." And then, adding with all the vigor in the world, "Be a Gryffindor."

Scorpius stared at her intently for a moment, his blue eyes locking with hers. For a moment, they looked cold and harsh, like his father's, but then they melted and became the warm eyes she had come to know so well.

A grin erupted on his lips. " _Be a Gryffindor?"_ he repeated, laughing. "You did _not_ play that card."

Rose threw her hands up, done with him. "You're despicable! Here I am, patching up your injured pride, and all you can do is mock my self-esteem boosting tactics?" She added, smaller somehow, "Besides, I was desperate."

"Fine, then," Scorpius nodded, walking towards the door.

Rose grinned back, victorious. "But it worked, didn't it? The old _'Be a Gryffindor'_ nag still works."

"Rose Weasley, you're positively bonkers." Rolling his eyes, he reached for the door, but stopped. Turning to Rose, he muttered, "And if you tell anyone that I cried…"

"…you'll what? Hex me?" Rose finished, with a hand on her hip.

Scorpius looked at her quietly for a moment, wondering how he ended up spilling his heart out for the ginger in front of him. Maybe it was simply the time and place, or maybe he actually found someone he could trust. He hoped it was the first one, though he secretly knew it was the latter.

"Thank you," he said, breaking the silence. A small, but sincere grin was on his face.

Rose's ego faded momentarily. She didn't know what to do when someone cried, that was true, but she was quite the expert at smiles. She grinned back.

They shut the door behind them and ascended the stairs to McGonagall's' office, where the Scorpius Malfoy, the son of Draco Malfoy, and no longer the son of a Death Eater, looked at his headmistress and said, "I'll do it."


	14. The World from the Other Side

Albus Potter sat alone in the Slytherin common room. Most of his housemates were in the library, which he had discovered was the usual pattern before bed. A week in, and everyone in his House remained distant from him, like he was a mistake, a fluke with the Sorting Hat. But honestly? He couldn't blame them. Despite what the Sorting Hat had told him about "discovering his true self" or something like that, he still felt as alone as ever. He was the Potter. Everyone else…was everyone else.

Now, this wasn't to say that he didn't have friends. Of course he did…they were just in Gryffindor, which at the moment, seemed a million miles away. Usually, if their Houses were doing something separate, Al would sit on one of the couches – which were actually _very_ comfortable, to his surprise – and read a book or catch up on homework. He often found himself silently debunking Slytherin rumors – for instance, no one is his dorm practiced Unforgivable Curses when they were bored, like James had told him, and there _weren't_ snakes under the mattresses that would lick your toes at night (something his older brother had often threatened him with when he was younger…of course, he didn't believe him anymore, but he couldn't deny his relief when he found his mattress snake-less).

To be honest, Albus actually quite enjoyed the common room. The Black Lake surrounding it was beautiful to look at – it's inky depths both mysterious and containing a strange sort of beauty. He could've sworn he saw the Giant Squid every once in a while, and the entire room had this sort of greenish-blue tone to it. If there was anything nice he had to say about his new House, it was the common room.

Albus checked his watch – Slughorn's party would begin in about an hour. He was about to get up from his seat to change clothes, when John Bampton, another first year in his dormitory, came in.

"Hey, John," Al said, looking up from his book.

Bampton nodded at Al politely. "Potter."

It wasn't that he was rude – if anything, John was one of the nicer ones – but there was always a wall between them whenever they would discuss anything, as there often was with Al and any of his housemates.

"Are you going to Slughorn's party tonight?" Al asked him. John's mother was a noted Healer, who had won numerous awards for her work with memory charm victims.

John raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you hear? It's been pushed back to tomorrow. Probably something to do with the weird stuff that's been going on lately – the questionings and all."

Al thought this over. It _was_ odd. Slughorn was never one to reschedule parties – he eagerly anticipated each one. "I better go tell my cousin," he told him. "I doubt she's heard about it yet – they just finished Gryffindor Quidditch try-outs." He got up from his chair and set his book aside where he was sure he could find it later.

John seemed entertained at the idea. "So _that's_ where you were tonight. With the Lions."

He just nodded, silently daring him to say something about his Gryffindor roots. But John only smirked once more and headed down the hall to the dormitory.

Al sighed, wondering when the awkwardness would suppress and life with the Snakes would reach some sort of normalcy. He began down the hall out towards the entrance of the dungeons – which is really a _fine_ place to let children live, isn't it? – and headed down the main corridor. Passing by McGonagall's office, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye – red, flaming curls beside a tall blonde. Peering around the corner, he saw that he had been right – Rose and Scorpius were leaving the headmistress's office, side-by-side. _Why would they be there?_

Before Al could decide whether or not he should spy on them and see what they're up to or leave, Rose spotted him and called him over. "Al! Hey!"

Walking towards them, he returned the greeting, "Hey. What're you guys doing in McGonagall's office?"

"Oh…yeah…that…" Rose stammered, looking to Scorpius for help. "She just –"

"– she caught us for pranking McLaggen!" Scorpius interjected.

Rose nodded vigorously. "Yeah, she did! We're alright, though, she was sympathetic to our cause." She tried to laugh it off, but it was extremely forced.

" _Okay…"_ Al muttered. "Then, why wasn't I called in?"

"Oh," Rose began, putting on a confused face, "Slughorn didn't call you in?"

Al shook his head, just _waiting_ for them to give it up.

"That's…strange…" Rose managed. And with one last look at Scorpius, he broke.

Scorpius rubbed his temples. "God, you are _horrible_ at this!"

"Sorry, I'm just not used to – Al usually knows everything – and –!"

"Boo-hoo, Weasley problems."

" _Weasley problems?"_

"UM, HELLO, I'D LIKE TO KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON, THANK YOU VERY MUCH!"

The two Gryffindors sighed loudly, trying to figure out what to say and what to do. On the one hand, the Ministry had entrusted this mission to them and only them. On the other, Albus could be trusted. Then again, the Ministry entrusted this mission to them and _only_ them.

"Al, I'm so sorry, but I just can't," Rose told her cousin, her eyebrows knitted together worriedly. "You know I would if I could, but this time, I can't. I'm so sorry."

That hurt. Nothing had ever been kept secret between them since they were old enough to even _have_ secrets. As cousins and best friends, they had this sort of unshakable bond. But suddenly, the bond seemed to be cast off to a place far beyond either of them could reach.

For a moment, Al didn't register what had just been said. "Wait – I'm sorry?" It had to be a mistake. It had to be. He and Rose told each other everything…

"I'm sorry, Al," Rose repeated, a pained look on her face. "I'm so, so sorry. I can't."

Some small part of Al began to ache. He tried to ignore it, but it just grew bigger and bigger until the words came flowing to his mouth.

"Oh," he managed, hurt. "Yeah, sure, I get it. It's fine."

Rose looked at her cousin once more, pleadingly. "Al, you have to understand –"

"– no, it's whatever," he said quickly. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he backed away from the girl he once knew and spat, "Must be a Gryffindor thing, huh?"

Rose opened her mouth to argue, but the words never came. With a final hurt glance, Albus headed back the way he had come, back to his snake hole.

Scorpius looked at the ginger beside him and noticed that she was on the verge of tears. For someone who usually knew how to react to things, tears had been the one thing he could never crack. But he did his best.

"He'll get over it," he tried, but Rose just wiped her eyes with her sleeve and shook her head.

 _You don't know him like I do,_ she wanted to say, but then realized the harsh truth – maybe she didn't anymore.

Al fell asleep in the common room that night, reading – too tired and angry to face his roommates – feeling for the first time like a stranger to the girl he had known so well.

 _Slytherin it is,_ he thought bitterly as exhaustion overcame him, and the green-eyed boy fell into a heavy sleep.

0o0o0

" _Ooomph!_ Wait – Potter, is that you?"

Albus Potter jolted awake the next morning, as something hard fell on him. John Bampton stood over him, rubbing his rear end.

"Blimey – six in the morning, I come to sit down, and there's a person where the cushion should be," he grumbled, still half asleep.

Albus sat up and stretched the uncomfortable night's effect on his body evident. "Sorry," he muttered. "Must've fallen asleep reading…"

"What's your deal anyway?" John asked, sitting beside him.

Albus sighed. Slytherins, he noticed, had a gift for observation. He began explaining last night's events, and to his surprise, the brunette listened to every word. Of course, Albus _did_ have the shred of respect for his cousin to leave out the part where they had come out of McGonagall's office, but he included everything else – her attempting to lie to him, then betraying whatever trust they had between them.

"Ouch," Bampton commented on the whole scenario.

"Yeah, that about sums it up," said Al, getting up from the couch.

"Seems to me all Gryffindors are arrogant prats. Can't trust them," he declared, shaking his head. "Besides, you don't need them anyway. You're a Slytherin – and Slytherins may be a lot of things, but at least we stick together, right?"

Albus thought about this for a moment. Slowly, he began nodding. Sad, but true. Out of all the Houses, the Slytherins were the most close-knit. Even the Hufflepuffs, who are known for their loyalty, often spread out amongst groups and trade friendships and allegiances like playing cards. It was a small fact that somehow brightened a dim day.

Albus thanked John and went back to the dorm to get dressed, while John went up for breakfast.

It was a Saturday, which _should_ be the best day of the week, but for Albus Severus, it only meant a whole day to try to avoid Rose and Scorpius. Albus entered the Great Hall, dressed in jeans and a blue sweater, and experienced the same predicament he had faced on the first day at Hogwarts – where to sit.

He looked towards the Gryffindor table, and sure enough, Rose, Hera, and Scorpius were laughing and chatting away. Rose caught his eye and gave him a small, apologetic smile. He was so tempted to go and sit beside her, grab a piece of toast, laugh, and pretend like nothing happened. But he couldn't. He felt betrayed, honestly. First, he was put in a separate House from her, from his friends, from his family, and from all he's ever known. Then, she begins keeping secrets from him, her _best friend._ Does she even know how hard it is? She may not like Gryffindor, but at least she's not alone. Was it going to be like this from here on out, with him always being the one left behind? The one left in the dust? At least she –

Albus stopped himself. He was over-thinking it, of course he was. No – this was simply a matter of trust. She was his best friend, but she had decided to place her trust elsewhere. If there was truly something wrong, she would've – _could've –_ told him. But she didn't. Those were her mistakes, not his.

To his right, he noticed John Bampton waving him over subtly from the Slytherin table. Should he –? It was where he belonged, anyway. Maybe it was time to actually take the Sorting Hat's advice and become his own person. He was a Slytherin, plain and simple, so it only stands to reason that he should start acting like one.

He took one last glance at Rose's attempt to make amends and walked towards the other side of the room, taking a seat beside John. He felt a twisted sense of glee when he noticed his cousin's hurt expression, along with a small pang of guilt, which he promptly ignored. As he ate and chatted away with his other Slytherins, there was one thing he couldn't help from noticing –

The world looks so different from the other side of the room.

0o0o0

"Ready?" Rose asked Scorpius, who was struggling to breathe in his dress robes.

He nodded quickly, pulling on his collar. "We'd better hurry in or else this tie is going to strangle me…"

Rose rolled her eyes and went to grab the door handle leading to Slughorn's office, when a thought popped into her head. "Wait –" she said, tucking a stray curl behind her ear, "– how do I look?"

Scorpius looked at her, a vacant expression plastered on his face. She was wearing a modest, navy-blue frock with lace trimming. It had taken two bottles of hair potion to tame her frizz, but there were still a few strands out of place. She didn't mind, however, as this was a fact of life she had accepted as Hermione Granger's daughter.

"Dressy," he answered blatantly.

"Thanks for the help," she muttered sarcastically. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door and stepped into the lion's den.

They were immediately welcomed by a cheerful voice, proclaiming, "Why, Miss Granger! Please, please, have a seat!" Slughorn walked towards them, grey eyes twinkling merrily, and shook both of their hands. Looking at Scorpius, he rambled, "And you are…Mr. Malloy…?"

"Malfoy, sir," Scorpius corrected.

"Yes, yes, of course, Mr. Malfoy," he corrected, and then he let out a sigh. "You must forgive me, it's the scattered mind of an old man, I'm afraid."

Scorpius smiled and nodded politely, though he doubted that was the reason.

The two took a seat at a large, circular wooden table in the center of his large office. They were just on time, and the majority of the guests were already there. Matilda Wood sat beside Slughorn, her hair styled to perfection, and was busy sending Rose a smile so sickeningly sweet that it could have given anyone diabetes. Beside her was James Potter, smirking playfully at the two, who sent Rose a secretive wink as she took her seat across the table. Rose had heard the story about last year, when Slughorn had invited every single Weasley-Potter, since all had famous blood, and it had been a disaster. Old family drama and arguments had been brought up over the course of dinner, and it was a miracle that none of them strangled each other by the end of it. This year, Slughorn had wisely decided against it and only invited those who he predicted would do something exceptional one day. (Why he invited James, Rose had no clue.) Phineas Finnigan sat next to him, chatting with James about Quidditch. Then, were the two Scamander twins, Aunt Luna's sons, looking as handsome as ever. It was odd – Rose had played with them when she was younger, but over time and distance, they had grown apart to the point where they were strangers. It was so difficult to decide which was which. Victoire, the blondest and most beautiful of the Weasley clan, sat beside them, looking extremely bored and not even noticing her cousin's arrival. John Bampton, the son of the famous Healer, sat beside her, and next to him was an empty chair, which she assumed belonged to Albus, who still hadn't shown.

To Rose's dismay, she was seated right beside the empty seat and Scorpius next to her. He sent her a worried glance, but she dismissed it, not wanting to let Slughorn know there was something wrong – the man loved his parties, and the last thing she wanted to do was be the one to ruin it.

Dinner was served, and the awkward small talk commenced.

"So, Mr. Scamander and Mr. Scamander," chuckled Slughorn, as he cut some truffled quail on his plate, "your grandfather was Newt Scamander of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_?"

The boy to the left nodded. In comparison to the other dinner guest's attitudes, he seemed genuinely eager to answer. "Yes, sir, he was. My brother Lorcan and I even own some of his old journals. They're full of notes on his travels and the creatures he encountered – it's rather fascinating."

Slughorn looked impressed and began asking more questions, while Rose desperately looked for a way to remember the two. Left – Lysander, Right – Lorcan. Dimples – Lysander, No Dimples – Lorcan. Gorgeous – Lysander, Even More Gorgeous – Lorcan. Simple.

"…and he even did some work with Muggle zoologists, when comparing species and such," Lysander continued.

"Fascinating, fascinating," Slughorn approved. Then, turning to Rose, he asked, "And Miss Weasley, is it true that you yourself attended Muggle school for a time period?"

"Yes, sir," replied Rose. The stiffness of the dinner was driving her insane. _I could be out on my broom,_ she thought hopelessly, _or even just asleep in my big, comfy bed…_

"Are you finding it useful for you studies at Hogwarts?" he inquired, taking a large bite of quail.

"I suppose, sir. You see, my mother is Muggleborn, and she was the top of her class. She often credited it to her time spent in Muggle school – it reinforces many comprehension and mathematical skills," she explained, feeling utterly like a robot. "As for me, both of my parents have such demanding jobs at the Ministry that it would have been extremely difficult for me to have been home-schooled like most young wizards and witches."

Slughorn nodded, listening intently. "Was it enjoyable? I would imagine one would feel rather out of place, in a school full of Muggles."

Rose straightened up, a defensive tone to her voice. "Not at all – some of my closest friends are from my time spent there, and often, there was no difference between me and any of my classmates." She blushed. "Of course, as my magic developed, there was the occasional mishap. Once, I turned my teacher's hair –"

The door to Slughorn's office suddenly opened and closed, and Albus Potter came inside, breathing heavily from rushing to get there. He, too, was wearing uncomfortable-looking dress robes and shoes, though he made no attempt to tidy his unruly black waves.

"Ah, Mr. Potter!" Slughorn greeted him. "We'd thought you'd gotten lost!"

Albus offered a half-hearted smile and walked towards the table. When he saw where his place setting was, Rose could see the dismayed look on his face. He took a seat anyway, not making any eye-contact with the girl beside him.

"Sorry – I lost track of the time," he apologized.

Slughorn waved him off. "It's fine, my boy. I'm sure your teachers have put quite the work load on you – myself included," he laughed. "Now, Miss Weasley, you were saying?"

"Oh, yes…" Rose stammered, not prepared for the sudden switch of topics. "Well, once I turned my teacher's hair pink, and another time, the swing sets took to the sky…quite literally. It was hard to explain that one."

Slughorn chuckled, as did a few of the other guests. Rose was just grateful that some of the ice was beginning to melt.

A brilliant idea suddenly popped into her head. " _Actually,"_ she continued, turning to Albus, "I believe my cousin was also there for the aftershock. Do you remember when we had to find an explanation for the flying swing set?"

"I was never there for that," said James from across the table, oblivious to what was going on. He looked over at Victoire, who was picking at her nails. "Was I there for that?"

"No, stupid, she's talking to Al," Victoire mumbled, monotone, not even taking her eyes off her hands.

James rolled his eyes and sunk back in his chair, muttering in a girlish voice, " _No, stupid, she's talking to Al…!"_

Rose, like usual, found ignoring her cousin was the best method. "Do you remember that, Al? The headmaster's face?"

Al narrowed his eyes at his cousin, not even offering a response. Rose continued, "And that time the following summer when you nearly crashed the Ford Angela and I had to cover for you?"

" _Rose…"_ Scorpius murmured warningly.

She ignored him. "And that Christmas when I ripped my sweater Grandma had given me, and you gave me yours?"

Al continued to stare angrily at her.

Seeing that this was in no way headed in a good direction, Scorpius once again whispered, " _Rose, stop it…"_

But she had a plan, and she was going to stick with it until her cousin apologized – Or should she? Should anyone? – and everything was like it was before. Brimming with determination, Rose reminded again, "Or that time when we went to Uncle George's shop, and –"

Albus suddenly stood from the table and walked to the door, fuming. Before he turned the knob, however, he turned around to face Rose at the table and said in a wounded voice, "Just because _I_ trusted you then, doesn't mean _you_ trust me now." Without another word, he slammed the door.

Everyone at the table sat in silence.

Finally, Slughorn spoke first. "Well," he managed, trying to piece together what had just gone on, "who wants dessert?"

0o0o0

A peaceful sleep seemed impossible for Albus. He tossed and turned, in and out of restless nightmares and spurts of strange dreams and images. Often times, he found himself sitting up in bed, half-awake one minute, and snoring the next. He had this odd pit of guilt, though reason told him there was nothing to feel guilty about. But no matter what he did, he kept dreaming about the hurt look on Rose's face…

"Potter."

"Hey, Potter."

"Wakey-wakey."

Strange voices awoke him from his unpleasant dreams. When he opened his eyes, he saw John Bampton and two of his other roommates, Lucas Zanbini and Ivan Diddle, standing over him. They all wore sly grins, the moonlight illuminating the energized gleam in their eyes.

"What – what is it?" Al mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"Heard you had a rough day," John said. "Listen, we've decided – we like you, Potter. You seem like a decent guy, even with you being The-Boy-Who-Lived's kid and all."

Al was lost. "Okay then…?"

Zanbini stepped forward, continuing, "And we trust you enough to let you in on a little…excursion."

The other boys laughed and dropped a piece of paper on Al's lap.

It was difficult to read it in the darkness, but he could make out large, bold words reading, "MUDBLOODS…SQUIBS…HALF-BLOODS…CORRUPTED…" And in even larger words at the bottom, "FREED BLOOD."

"We all thought you being here was a mistake, but since it seems things aren't going to well with those Gryffindor buddies of yours, now's your time to prove us wrong," Zanbini continued.

John Bampton grabbed the flyer and rolled it back up. A grin on his face, he asked with all the suave in the world, "So what we want to know is, Potter…"

He handed the flyer to the confused boy in bed.

"… _are you in?"_


	15. The Fear of Failure

_"_ _Meet us at 10:00, by the Forest, near the edge of the grounds."_

"The Forest?"

 _"_ _There're some seventh years going – they'll apparate us out of here."_

"But you can't apparate inside Hogwarts."

 _"_ _That's why we're going near the edge of the grounds. Near the border, there's a weak spot. They discovered it last year."_

"What if we get caught?"

 _"_ _We won't. Filch is getting old – too old. He'll never see us coming. What, are you scared?"_

"No, I'm not scared."

 _"_ _Good. You won't regret this, Potter. There are things going on, things way out of our control, but these guys…they have a plan, Potter. And they're going to change things."_

"What kinds of things? Laws?"

 _"_ _More like life as we know it. Remember, you have to keep a down-low about this, Potter. If we find out you ratted on us…"_

"I won't. Trust me."

 _"_ _We do, Potter. Don't make us regret it."_

Albus Potter was confused about many things, but one thing he did understand was trust – and how it could be easily bought, traded, broken, and won. A certain red-head had taught him that. Trust was not something you should mistaken. You do, and you pay the price. And they were making a horrible mistake in putting their trust in him.

"Don't worry. You won't."

0o0o0

"No, no, no, and _absolutely_ no! You are _not_ sending my child straight into the clutches of Death Eaters!"

Rose looked up at her worried mother, a pleading look on her face. There were things she wanted to say – things she wanted to explain – but the explanation never phrased itself correctly. Words jumbled in her mind, trying to rearrange them into a plausible reason for her wanting to do this.

 _I'm not you. I'm me._ "I never said that!"

 _This is for the sake of good – isn't that what you always wanted me to work for?_ "Yes, of course, but not like this!"

 _I have to do this._ "Why? Why do you _have_ to do this?"

 _I want to help – they need my help! For once in my life, I'm needed – not as your daughter, but as_ me. "Rose, you have always been your own person – I don't see why you need this as proof that you are!"

Then finally:

 _Mom, Dad – you had your adventure. Let me have mine._

For some reason, for some strange reason that none of them would confess, that struck a chord. As so, after about a hundred reassurances that her daughter's safety would be their top priority, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley agreed to Rose's participation in spying on the Freed Blood rally.

However, for Scorpius, it had been quite different. Draco Malfoy entered the room, his hair combed back and his statue straight and tall, like a general. He was still wearing his suit from his Ministry board meeting, and when he saw his son, the two hugged briefly and nodded to each other, like some sort of secret code. McGonagall explained the situation to him and the possible dangers. Draco listened intently, showing hardly any emotion. When she was done, all he did was turn to his son and look into those bluer, warmer renditions of his own eyes.

"What do you think?" Draco asked his son, who stood in front of him.

Scorpius nodded, seriousness in his eyes that Rose had never seen before. "I want to. I _have_ to."

Draco Malfoy bent down so that he was eye-level with his son and opened his mouth to say something – but thought better of it. After a few moments of silence, he, too, began to nod. It was as if a bitter truth had dawned on him – one he didn't like but knew was necessary. He looked searchingly at his son, and finally formed a single phrase:

"Good luck."

A ginormous grin grew on Scorpius's face, every inch of him smiling, and he threw his arms around his father's neck. _It's interesting,_ Rose thought to herself, _his eyes melt only when he's around his son._

As Scorpius squeezed tighter around Draco, he whispered in his ear, "Thanks, Dad. I love you." Draco promptly hugged his son even tighter.

"Be safe, okay? Especially with –" His voice trailed off, and an extremely concerned look came upon his face. " – especially with everything that's been going on," he corrected himself. Scorpius nodded unquestioningly and hugged him tighter.

Rose glanced up to see that her own father's expression had softened quite a bit. Ron Weasley, squeezing his wife's hand, leaned over and whispered in her ear, " _The ferret's been trained, huh?"_ In response, Hermione rolled her eyes, a grin growing on her face.

When the father and son finally separated, Draco turned to Rose, who was slightly behind Scorpius, beside her parents.

"Take care of my son out there, huh, Weasley?" he asked her.

Rose nodded, offering a small smile. "Yes, sir. I'll do my best."

From behind them, Scorpius leaned in and interjected, "Oh, no way. I'm going to end up saving _her_ arse way more than she'll save mine. "

Draco let out a chuckle at his son's remark, but looking over Rose once more, he noted, "Oh, I doubt it."

Scorpius looked flabbergasted, but Rose only laughed. One – because it was _his_ father. And two – it was just so bitterly true.

Draco stood and noticed the couple behind them. "Ron." He nodded towards Rose's father. "Hermione." He did the same for the brunette next to him.

Ron returned the recognition. "Draco, you're looking well," he told him politely.

"As are you," Draco said, giving them a small smile.

Rose glanced at Scorpius, who was deeply analyzing the interaction. He finally caught eye contact with the red-headed girl and gave a tiny, overly polite nod, mimicking his father. Rose suppressed a giggle. Scorpius returned to listening in to their parents' conversation, intrigued by both the cordialness and subconscious repairment of a long-time rivalry. It may take some time, some work, more than a few polite nods, but the situation seemed fixable, and that was all that mattered to the two young Gryffindors.

When they were done, McGonagall stepped forward. It was 10:00 on Sunday night, an hour before they were supposed to meet to go to the Freed Blood rally. Rose's blood was pumping from anxiety, and she could see the beads of sweat forming on Scorpius's forehead. It was exciting to finally have an adventure of their own, but as the time drew nearer, the actual danger of the situation at hand began to descend upon them.

"Kingsley should be arriving shortly," McGonagall told them. She, too, looked nervous for them. More gray strands of hair were sticking out of place than normal.

Ron turned to the kids. "And your uncle Harry and I are assigning two of the best Aurors we have to make sure you two are safe." He reached into his pocket and pulled out two galleons, giving one to each of them. "If any emergency comes along – hell, if _anything_ comes along – just tap one of these bad boys with your wand, and your Aurors will be alerted. They each have one as well, and they'll come for you."

Draco raised an eyebrow at the galleons. He went to say something, but then it dawned on him. He asked, "Wait – are those –?"

Ron nodded, smiling proudly. "Dumbledore's Army, yes. We used to use these to alert each other when there was a meeting." He looked towards the blonde man in front of them. "In fact, Mr. Ferret over here was one of the reasons why we were busted."

Rose inwardly groaned. _Everything was going so well, and he had to go and –_

But to her surprise, Draco Malfoy smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "I wanted to be on her good side, what can I say?" he offered. "And if we hadn't, Umbridge would've never been carried off by the centaurs."

" _Centaurs?"_ Scorpius repeated, eyes widened. "What about _centaurs?_ "

Ron only sighed loudly, muttering, "Good times."

" _Good times?"_ Hermione echoed, flabbergasted. "We were constantly hiding from Umbridge and her torture techniques! How can you call it 'good times'?"

Ron just scoffed. "Yeah, yeah, sure. Says the woman who was all excited to be breaking the rules – wait, didn't _you_ come up with the idea in the first place? Hmmm?"

Hermione went to argue, but stopped, folding her arms with an unpleasant expression on her face. " _Oh, so he remembers_ that, _but…"_

Leaning in, cupping his ear, Ron asked, "Sorry? What was that?"

Hermione uncrossed her arms and placed them on her hips instead, looking extremely ticked off. "Ronald Billius Weasley, do you know what day it is?"

Ron turned a pale white, knowing that he was in trouble when she used his full name. Rose looked at her father with large, doe-like eyes, not believing what she was hearing.

"September seventh…?" Ron answered, confused.

Hermione's expression only grew angrier. "Which is?"

"A Sunday?"

"Ronald Weasley, it's our anniversary!" Hermione shouted at him, all hell breaking loose.

"No, no, no, we got married on the _eighth,"_ Ron corrected her, all sureness in his eyes.

Hermione groaned, rubbing her temples. "It was the _seventh."_

"No, it was the eighth!"

"I can't believe you don't remember this!"

"I do! But on the _right day!"_

Draco, Rose, and Scorpius stood and watched, at a loss. Scorpius leaned over to Rose and whispered, "We don't do that, do we?"

Rose shook her head, not taking her eyes off of her arguing parents. "Oh no – they're much worse." Satisfied with her answer, Scorpius shrugged and continued to watch.

"– then check the photo in your wallet, _if you're so sure!"_

"Fine!" Hermione rebuffed and reached into her pocket and opened her small, leather wallet to a photo of two smiling newlyweds. Turning it over, she cried, "See! The date taken says –" Her victorious expression faltered. "– September eighth."

Ron smiled slightly and softly countered, "See?"

Hermione offered an apologetic look. "I'm – I'm sorry, Ron."

The couple leaned in for a kiss, but just as their lips were nearly touching, Ron pulled back, a look of revelation on his freckled face.

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

Then, with all the excitement in the world, her husband announced, "YOU WERE WRONG!"

As he jumped around "childishly" as Hermione put it, there was a loud _whoosh_ and Kingsley apparated into the room. Despite his appointment as Minister, he still wore his African garb with all beautiful, bright colors in it – blues and reds and violets of all kinds. Rose had to hand it to the man – Kingsley had style.

"Sorry I'm late," he announced as he entered the room. "I had an important meeting – one of the entry toilets became clogged and a man from Control of Magical Creatures was stuck from the waist down. Not a pretty sight." He looked from Rose to Scorpius. An odd expression appeared as he glanced at the blonde boy beside her. He nodded at the two and muttered, "Excuse me," and pulled McGonagall aside.

The two stood whispering for a moment, and Rose had a sneaky suspicion as to what about. Poor Scorpius, however, was extremely confused and continued to share a worried expression with his partner in crime. Rose, feeling helpless, could do nothing but return the look.

The headmistress and Minister finally returned from their private discussion. Kingsley clasped his hands together, and asked, "Are you two ready?"

Both Gryffindors nodded, feeling rather sick.

Kingsley made a gesture to McGonagall, who nodded and headed towards the fireplace in the back of her office. "I've had discussions with both your father and uncle, Miss Weasley, and we've selected two of our top Aurors whose top priority will be to keep you safe. They will be standing by in a close-by – but not too suspicious – location, waiting for your signal. You need only tap your galleon." There was suddenly a loud _whoosh,_ followed immediately by another. "Ah, and here they are now!"

Dean Thomas, tall and handsome as he had been in his days at Hogwarts, appeared beside Kingsley. He was clad in royal blue, official-looking robes, and dulled leather pants. He wore two protective gloves and had an odd-looking belt full of strange, magical weaponry.

"Hi, Ron, Hermione," he greeted his two old friends, beaming. He gave a nod to Scorpius's father. "Draco," he addressed curtly.

Next to him, appearing immediately after, was his best friend, Seamus Finnigan. He wore similar robes and pants, but his belt was instead stocked with all kinds of explosives – multiple forms of dynamite, anything that was a "_ bomb", including a few Weasley-product smoke bombs. He had a long, running scar that spanned from his temple to his jaw in almost straight line. Rose knew being an Auror was dangerous work – her father had often come home with scars he couldn't explain. And for some reason, each new scar only made her prouder.

"Oi, Weasleys!" Seamus called. His eyes landed on Rose beside them. "Oh, look, and a little Weasley!"

The old friends hugged and greeted each other with the usual topics – health, business, children, etc. Once they had finished, the two Aurors shook hands with Draco – a stiffer, colder greeting, sure, but it was still significantly better than it had been nineteen years ago, and all parties understood.

Following the Battle of Hogwarts, Kingsley had offered Auror training to all who fought, proclaiming that their honor and sacrifice has been more than enough qualification. A good handful of Dumbledore's army had taken this opportunity, including Harry Potter, Ron, Neville, Dean Thomas, and Seamus. Though Neville successfully completed his training and spent a few years on the squad, he soon had taken a post as the Herbology professor at Hogwarts and was busy spending time with his new wife, Hannah Abbott. The rest completed their training and began working full-time. Within ten years, Harry was unanimously appointed as Head, with Ron as his right-hand man.

The two Aurors finally came towards Rose and Scorpius. They knelt so they were eye-level with the Gryffindors, beaming smiles on their faces.

"Rosie, you've gotten so big!" Seamus told her. "And so has your _hair!"_

Rose laughed – anyone else would've taken offense, but it was typical catch-up conversation for her, as her hair volume had increased tremendously since third grade.

"Granger genes, eh?" he asked her, smirking. There was a haughty gasp from Hermione in the background, but it was all in good nature.

Dean Thomas stepped in, smiling and shaking her hand. "Hera's written to me about you, Weasley, and I'm glad you two have hit it off. Doing Quidditch this year?"

"Of course!" Rose answered.

Dean winked at her. "Well, I'm not surprised! You were the first two year-old I've ever seen who could ride a broomstick _upside down,"_ he told her, laughing at the memory.

The two Aurors finally noticed Scorpius beside her. They exchanged a quick look of surprise and knelt beside the boy as well.

Extending his hand, Dean introduced himself, "Dean Thomas. Auror. You're Draco's son, huh?"

Scorpius nodded, still trying to analyze the two men standing before him. "Yes, sir."

His eyes landing on his tie, he asked, stunned, "And are those _Gryffindor_ robes I see?" He turned around to the tall blonde man behind him. "Draco, you sure have your hands full. Who would've guessed?"

Draco smiled and shrugged, a strange mixture of pride and worry radiating from him.

It was then Seamus's turn. "Seamus Finnigan, also an Auror, but mainly just a demolition expert," he explained jokingly, "though I hardly get to _use them…"_ he added, directing it towards Rose's father who stood a few feet away.

Ron held up his hands defensively. "Regulations!" he argued.

"Right." Seamus rolled his eyes. Then, his voice dropping down to a whisper, he told Scorpius, "But honestly? I think he's just afraid of me showing him up in front of the boss. Sure, he's his best friend and all, but when you've got pyrotechnics…" He patted his belt proudly. "…it's quite a show."

Scorpius laughed approvingly, while Ron rolled his eyes.

Finally, Kingsley called them over. "It's 10:30 – we should be heading out soon." Rose, Scorpius, Dean, and Seamus walked over towards him. First, Kingsley addressed the Aurors. "Stand by at a safe distance in case you're needed. We have no idea what kind of Death Eaters they have backing them up, so prepare for the worst. No harm is to come to the attendees – most are just scared, lost, and confused children, you must remember that. If you're needed, an alert will appear on your galleons. You have your galleons, yes?"

Both Aurors patted their pockets and nodded.

"Badge of honor," Dean said, proud of his D.A. roots.

"Good. When they are done and have collected enough information, they will use the portkey to transfer back here to this exact location. An alert will also appear when they have done so, and you are to meet them back here to ensure that they made it back safely. Now, children –"

Rose and Scorpius directed their attention to the Minister, trying not to look scared.

"You are actors, spies. Play your part well. I doubt these hooligans will recognize either of you easily, and if they do, they will most likely assume that you've turned on your families and converted to new, twisted ways, or in Mr. Malfoy's case, reverted to the old. You will meet up with the rest of the attendees, and they will relocate you to a more secretive location. Keep tight to your galleons, as Thomas and Finnigan will use them to track you. Once you have arrived, collect what information you can – their primary goal, names of any known leaders, upcoming actions or meetings, the goings-on of the rally itself, and any symbols they make themselves known by."

The children nodded, listening worriedly.

"Keeping your cover is vital. If – God forbid – they are to find out you are working for the Ministry, their number one enemy, they _will_ turn on you." Then, seeing their terrified expressions added, "I don't mean to scare you, and I know that we are asking a great deal from you, but this mission is necessary if we are going to pull out this seed before it grows into something we have no control over. For now, it may simply be a group of rowdy teenagers exhibiting their freedom of speech, but inside sources have told us that there are darker shades to it than that. Gather what you can, and if at any point you feel that you or the mission is jeopardized, simply tap your galleons." He breathed in deeply. "Are you ready?"

Rose looked to Scorpius, who was doing his best to contain his nerves, and said, "I – I think so."

Her mother came toward her and knelt down, holding her daughter's face in her hands. "Rosie, you know you can back out of this if you want to. We won't blame you for it. We understand," she promised, fear in her teary eyes.

It was tempting. She wanted to forget about this, run to her mother's arms, and never leave their security. But she had made a promise, and she was going to do something remarkable for the first time in her life. She was going to go in there and for the first time, be one of the heroes, not the daughter of them.

Rose firmly shook her head.

Hermione hesitated, and then wrapped her arms tightly around her eldest, closing her eyes in the embrace. "My brave girl," she whispered, and after kissing her head once, backed away to stand beside her husband.

Scorpius and his father exchanged an encouraging nod, as if to say:

 _"_ _I'll make you proud."_

 _"_ _I know you will."_

Ron came over and kissed his daughter on the top of her head and gave her a tight squeeze. Standing up, he called to his comrade, "Finnigan! Thomas! Take care of her, will you?"

Dean Thomas gave him a salute. "Will do," he promised.

Ron suddenly became very serious. "If anything happens to her, you're fired."

" _Ronald!"_

Seamus nodded vigorously, teeth clenched. " _Definitely_ will do," he reassured him.

Kingsley reached into his multi-colored robes and pulled out a plain, slightly rusted, golden pocket watch, his hand covered in a rag as he did so.

"This is the portkey you'll be using – keep it in your pocket until you need it. We don't want it to activate accidentally," he told the kids. Looking to the Aurors, he told them, "Thomas, Finnigan, we're ready when you are."

The men nodded and joined the children around the dangling pocket watch, their hands ready to grab. Rose's eyes met Scorpius's briefly, and their warm blue was now a stormy, ocean color. She tried to offer a smile but couldn't find the will to.

"We'll apparate nearby and follow you from there," Seamus told them. "Keep tight to your galleons."

"On the count of three," Kingsley announced, "grab hold of the watch."

Rose prepared herself, fists clenched, knees bent.

 _Every second spent worrying about who I am and who I should be…_

"One."

 _…_ _every moment spent in fear of failure…_

"Two."

 _'_ _My brave girl.'_

"Three."

 _Be brave._

The portkey began to spin and spin, and right before her world went dark, Rose Weasley felt Scorpius's hand reach for her own.


	16. Author's Note 4

**Hi guys! Wow. We've hit the 20-mark for both reviews AND followers! :D Thank you guys so, so, so much for all the advice and feedback! This is my first fanfiction, and I never would've imagined to get so much support this early on, and it really means a lot.**

 **First off, I think I need to make something clear for those who are concerned:**

 **SCORPIUS AND ROSE WILL NOT BE A COUPLE IN THIS FANFICTION.**

 **Don't get me wrong, they are my Harry Potter OTP, but...c'mon, guys, they're** ** _eleven._** **For their first year, they will stay good friends who drive each other insane because they're both so competitive and hot-headed. But I will include a few mild (** ** _very_** **mild) suggestions of a possible romance - mainly just James picking on them. Other than that, those who don't ship Scorose have nothing to worry...for now. I do ship them, but not now. In their later years, yes. :)**

 **Also, another thing that has been brought to my attention:**

 **I'm not at all trying to make all Slytherins baddies. My best friend in the world in a Slytherin, and (getting serious with discrimination here) she is the total opposite of the stereotype. Sure, a lot of the bad guys** ** _are_** **in Slytherin, but not all Slytherins are bad guys! I just want to make sure that you guys know that in this fanfic, not all Slytherins will be bad. These few are, for the sake of the plot, but not all are bad, don't worry! I'll do my best to avoid (most) Slytherin bashing. Thanks!**

Gogandantes - **I'm glad you're finding the chapters a bit short - that means I'm doing my job! :) No, but as the story goes on, I think you'll find a little lengthening in each chapter. I'll do my best to keep them in between. Also, thanks for your feedback on the characters! Yeah, I've read a lot of fanfics were Scorpius and Rose especially just...weren't quite right, and I'm glad you don't think so in mine! :) And about the Scorose item - sorry, they are one of my favorite couplings, but they will not be a couple in this fic, so you don't have anything to worry about. As for the try-outs - Scorpius did so well, I think, because I really wanted his Quidditch talent to be a surprise to Rose, who had to beg him to come. And Lucius...without spoiling too much...yes, will be a factor in the story, but not in the way you'd think. Rowling never did officially say he was in Azkaban, but why wouldn't he? (Not trying to Malfoy-bash here) He** ** _was_** **a faithful servant to Lord Voldemort until the very end, when he realized they were losing, and he ran off. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad he at least felt a little ashamed to run, but I would think that the Ministry would lock him up because of all he had done before. Basically - yes, he ran left, but only at the very end, and after all he did, it would only make sense for him to be locked up. Thank you so much for all of your feedback! (And I totally agree with you on the Matilda thing - I guess I was just too eager to get to other parts of the story :)**

 **...phew. A lot of words. Sorry, I enjoy Potterhead-Discussing ;)**

nikkiRiddle - **Thank you again for all of your feedback! I'm glad you liked the Scorpius revenge - so fun to write! :) And for James, ditto! Stay tuned for Albus...more suspense to come :P**

Morpheus-ofDreams - **Again, don't worry about the relationship in this fic, or in this year, at least, but I can't help that I'm a fan :) And about the password, sorry, that was my fault research-wise, but I think that despite Snape being headmaster before, Dumbledore would've left a little Easter egg for his password :P And I'm glad you liked what I did with the whole Albus-undercover thing - although I was tempted to put him in, too, it felt too neat to have exactly those three go in, and it would've gone against what I was building up. Thanks for the idea, though, and I'm glad you're enjoying it!**

.940436 - **Thank you so much, I'm glad you like it so far! :) And again, I wanted to send Al in, but I really wanted his character to be tested, and it will help him later on in becoming his own person and proud of the Slytherin he is. So don't worry ;)**

KARontheroad - **I'm so glad that you enjoyed the Rose/Scorpius friendship-building and the spy route! And I'm not sure if you got my message or not, but here it is just in case:** **I totally understand the Slytherin discrimination - in fact, in my mind, you're not a real HP fan if you live by that stereotype - and I can assure you that not every one of them will be Slytherin...that would be just horrible, and I would never forgive myself :P Also, I think you'll really like the next chapter...never underestimate the power of Albus Potter...**

hisuichanxx - **I absolutely HAD to at least mention "ferret" once...all in the fashion of Ron Weasley, of course. And thank you so, so much for your feedback! I'm really glad you enjoy this fic - it was something I had been sitting on for a while, and I couldn't wait to publish it on here. Also, it was really important for me to keep everything canon in this fic, especially since its Second Gen. But thank you once again - it meant a lot!**

 **Things I'm curious about:**

 **\- Did you guys like the Scorpius/Rose friendship-building in Ch.13?**

 **\- Predictions as to what this whole "Freed Blood" rally is about? Or what it might become? (Fun responses to read)**

 **\- Sympathizing with poor Al? Or predictions as to what he might do about the invite?**

 **\- Opinions on the Albus/Rose argument? Do you have a side, or do you understand both?**

 **\- Thoughts on the Slug Club party?**

 **\- Did you guys like the Ron/Hermione/Draco interaction? I wanted to make it cordial, but also have them come together a little more because of their kids. They're all in the same boat here, and I think it was important to show that. Thoughts?**

 **\- Rowling never said what happens to Seamus and Dean afterwards, but did you guys like their part as Aurors? I love those guys so much, and I knew they had to be in the fic at some point. Thoughts? Opinions? Fandom excitement over their BFF Auror-ing? :P (sigh) I love those guys...**

 **Well, once again, hope you guys enjoyed the latest installment! Please continue to review, favorite, and follow - things are just starting to heat up! :P Thanks again and enjoy!**

 **Oh, and by the way - "Phineas Finnigan?" On purpose. XD**


	17. Blissful Unknowing

Andrew, in his own mind, was a man of stature, someone to be taken seriously. He knew very well what he wanted, and he was more than willing to sever a couple hands and feet to get it. Maybe that was why he had decided to drop out of Hogwarts. Or maybe it was because he was failing all of his classes, had no real friends who liked him, no teachers who liked him, and had mysterious parentage. Anyway, all of that didn't matter anymore. Now, he had a job to do, and none of that would ever have to matter again.

He slid on his overcoat, which had been given to him at his first meeting – or, as he liked to put it, the meeting that changed his life. What had he said to him? "Here. Something to cover up those rags." It was the first time anyone had given something – and not for their own gain, either. Just because he needed it. And then, they spoke – their words were like fireworks, each syllable and vowel sparking another, leading him on and on, until he decided he would swear his life to those words. After all, he was simply one of the many prisoners. It was time to be freed.

He squeezed out a great glob of hair potion that had the consistency of goo and ran it through his sandy curls. He couldn't remember the last time he had washed it – sometime after he left Hogwarts, summer of his sixth year. He rented a room at the Leaky Cauldron for a few nights with the little money he had, but was kicked out after a week due to "ruckus." The landlady was a joke anyway – some Muggle-loving graduate who wouldn't stop gushing over his husband any time she has the chance. He was glad to be rid of that place.

From there, he stayed here and there – an abandoned warehouse one night, an alley the next – until he was given a flyer. A very particular flyer.

And so, he went. And it changed his life.

Did he have any regrets? A few, but none worthy of mentioning. But did he regret becoming a part of it all? No. Definitely no. They had taken the orphan off the street and turned him into a revolutionary.

Yeah. That's what he was – a _revolutionary_. He liked the sound of that.

And they weren't at all like the bad guys twenty years ago, no – those guys were insane, unorganized. Slaughtering here and there, rounding up Mudbloods, putting them on trial, shipping them off to Azkaban, people running everywhere, trying not to get caught – insanity. But these guys…they were different. It was more political. Why did they need wands when they had words?

Today, he would get to do the best part of the job – rounding up the newbies.

He liked to say he was "making a difference in children's lives", but that wasn't exactly it. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was an undertone. Maybe it was that undertone that made it so addictive.

He grabbed his _Nimbus Two-Thousand-and-One,_ an oldie but a goodie. About twenty models had been made since, but who cares? McGonagall had given it to him in his first year, around Christmas. She had heard he had a fondness for Quidditch, and since he had no family to be with during the holidays, he would be staying at Hogwarts. So Christmas morning in the Slytherin common room, he had found the broom, all wrapped up for him. A pity present.

And so, everywhere Andrew Smelting went, he carried with him two presents – one out of pity and one out of need.

He mounted the broom and took off. The trip wasn't too long – that was a part of the illusion, see. The kids would think they were being taken far away, when really, they were right under their own noses. He flew for a few minutes over the London skyline and gently landed near the back door of King's Cross.

The station was mostly abandoned – a few Muggles here and there, but most of the trains ran during the day, and not the many felt like boarding a train late into the night.

Checking his watch, he realized he had a good ten or fifteen minutes until kids starting showing up – preppy types, wanting to get there early – and so he leaned against the brick wall and lit a cigarette. Taking a long drag, he tipped his head back and closed his eyes, partly because he needed his sleep after two straight nights of guard duty and party because he couldn't remember the last time he was able to just _be._ It was nice…while it lasted.

The first kid came around. A girl. Fifteen or sixteen, two or three years younger than himself. In her hands, she clutched the flyer like a life line. She looked scared. _Good,_ he thought, _she'll be one of the easier ones._

The girl looked around in all directions until her eyes landed on the tall, black-clothed teenager against the wall.

Andrew pulled down his sunglasses a bit, getting a good look at the new meat. Decent-looking. Plain, but nice eyes. Long, dark hair. Young. Impressionable. Just their type.

"Um – excuse me – are you with –?" she asked him in a small voice, holding up her paper, as if the next words were tabooed.

Andrew took another drag and answered slyly, "Yes, ma'am. Hogwarts gal, aren't you? Gryffindor? No, let me guess…you're a Ravenclaw."

The girl gave a small nod, swallowing hard.

Clapping his hands together proudly, Andrew exclaimed, "I knew it! And here you are, living proof that Ravenclaws really _are_ the smart ones."

The girl gave a small, polite smile, but said nothing. _Harder to crack than I thought. What are they teaching kids these days?_

A few more trickled in. A couple boys who lived on the street – one of them a dropout like himself, one a runaway. Then a girl or two. Andrew found himself silently playing one of his favorite games. Every time they had an open rally, he would try to keep track of the records – the youngest and oldest kid that showed. And what do you know it; tonight's bunch set the bar. Nine years old. Orphan. Runaway type, and by that, he meant running away from his letter. Andrew had to give the kid some credit – that young and that smart to know when something was bad for him. That takes guts, the kind of guts he'd never have.

The usual, smirking Hogwarts kids showed, feeling so _dangerous_ that they had snuck out of school at night. _Like it's so impressive,_ he thought, _I discovered that weak spot during my fifth year – taught myself apparation and snuck out to the Hog's Head every Saturday night._

And then came the Slytherin bunch. Ever since they had decided to make the rallies more public, there was always the same group of five or six Slytherin boys who always showed. This time, however, they brought some new meat. One was a tall brunette, who was smirking so wildly that he could've been having muscle spasms, another was an African American boy with curly, neatly combed black hair, almost like a desperate attempt to straighten a poodle. Beside him was a stocky blonde who looked a _bit_ too excited to be there. And then, like in every group, was the odd man out.

He was a medium-height boy with a mop of brown hair and big, almost luminescent green eyes. He was doing his best to act like he wanted to be there, but Andrew saw through it in a second. Seeing an opportunity to demonstrate his authority, he swaggered toward the young kid and asked, " _Sooo,_ kid, tell me…what brings you here?"

He had been expecting a stuttering, nervous reply, but instead, the boy just looked up at the _revolutionary_ with defensive eyes and replied sarcastically, "Oh, you know – I just like ditching school in the middle of the night to hang out in empty train stations. All the cool kids do it these days, you know."

His buddies all laughed, leaving Andrew a bit thrown off.

Andrew took a moment to process the sarcasm…and decided he didn't buy it. Nope – not one bit. The sarcasm was covering up something. All he had to do was find out what.

So he chose his favorite tactic – Devil's Advocate, or as they refer to it in Muggle circles, Good Cop/Bad Cop.

"Hey, hey, easy there – didn't mean to rub you the wrong way," Andrew told the boy defensively, holding up his hands. "First year, am I right?"

The boy did nothing for a moment. Finally, he nodded, refusing to make eye contact.

Andrew leaned on the wall beside the boy and got to his level. "Worst year of my life," he told him, puffing out some cigarette smoke. The boy didn't cough. "I mean, they just rip you out from your life – _your_ life – and pluck you in some school for seven straight years. Brutal."

He gave him an incredulous look, but made no comment and went back to watching the other kids.

Andrew took his silence as a cue to start laying it thick. "And the worst part of it all was, no one really _gets_ it, you know? They start throwing out all of these stereotypes and ideas and yahta-yahta-yahta. After a while, it's like drawing blood from a rock, ain't it?" he asked. "They have this…particular way to see the world, and it seems all shiny and pretty and _magical_ on the outside, but really? It's a big show. That's all this Ministry/Hogwarts crap is anyway. One big show. The big guy takes all the credit, and the little guy gets left behind the curtain."

The boy said nothing, but his eyes shifted a bit uneasily. Andrew knew he had stirred up something…whatever it was.

Shoving the kid on his shoulder playfully, Andrew continued as if he had just made a new friend, "Nah, but you get used to it. And hey, if you really enjoy tonight, you may never have to go to that psycho-school again. You could join our cause."

The boy wasn't sold. He didn't want to be here one bit, he could tell. So why did he come?

"And what exactly _is_ your cause?" the boy asked, arms folded.

Andrew gave him a toothy grin. "Well, I guess you'll find out."

Making a mental note to keep an eye out for that kid, Andrew left the wall beside him and went back to monitoring the newbies. A few more had come in, and there were now about twenty/twenty-five people. _Not bad,_ noted Andrew, _but we could do better._ His watch read _11:00_ and it was time to get the show on the road.

Clapping his hands to get everyone's attention, he began, "Alright, newbies! My name is Andrew. I will be your escort. Anyone who has any questions, keep it to yourself. And if you can't, then you shouldn't have come." A few of the kids chuckled. Andrew smirked and continued, "First things first – everyone empty your pockets. Go on, empty them. Any jewelry, too. Earrings, bracelets, rings, etc., etc. Yes, even you. Our location is top secret, and I don't want any idiots with a death wish to pull something stupid. Go on, put them in the sack." He held out the faded bag from his pocket as the kids begrudgingly handed over their belongings.

He got to the Ravenclaw girl. She held something gold in her hands – a ring with a narrow band and a circular diamond. She stared down at it, stricken.

"In the sack," Andrew told her, annoyed, and he extended it towards her.

The girl continued to finger it. "But – but will I get it back?"

"Sorry, all questions must be saved until the end of the tour," he responded sarcastically, still holding the bag.

"But – _will I get it back?"_

Andrew sighed loudly, on his last nerve. "God, I don't know! Am I supposed to be your little shiny thing's body guard? What do I look like, a goblin?"

In a small streak of bravery, the girl straightened and said, "It was my mom's. Am I going to get it back, or not?"

In response, he simply pointed towards the station. "Strike three. You can leave."

The girl gaped back at him, confused for a moment, the ring still in her hands.

"Oh, sorry, I forgot – Ravenclaws are the smart ones – you _may_ leave."

She slipped the ring back on her finger and opened her mouth as if to say something, but the words never came.

Andrew stared her down, fed up with how unprofessional this was making him look.

"Leave, English, _to go from a place_ , see also – _freaking leave already!"_

Terrified, the Ravenclaw quickly apparated, the ring on her finger and the flyer still clutched in her hands. Andrew watched, shaking his head sadly.

"See – _this_ is what happens when you ask questions," he said, making use of the example. "This is only for precaution, people. We run a tight ship, and a _yes_ means _yes_ and _no_ means _no._ Got it?" A few murmurs of agreement. "Good. In the sack, go on."

Once every person had given up their valuables and the sack was filled, Andrew tied it up and bent down. He picked up two loose bricks on the alley floor and stuffed the bag inside. He stood, grinning.

"But to answer her question – _yes._ You will get it back. After."

The entire group breathed a sigh of relief.

"Alright," Andrew announced, continuing. "I want two groups, ten-ish in one and ten-ish in another. Now."

The group split in two. The Slytherin gang stuck together, taking the black-haired boy with them. Andrew couldn't help but grin a little – they were all so nervous, the way the hustled so quickly and never even spoke a word. You know what? Undignified as it may be, he liked the power – even what little he had.

"For safety measures, I'm going to apparate with one group first, and I'll come back for another. Everyone holds hands tightly – anyone gets splinched, don't blame me." A few worried looks were shared, and Andrew joined hands with the boy from earlier, in the first group, who was biting his lip, in deep thought. "Oh – and don't think about trying to smuggle out the sack. It's charmed to defend itself, but hey, if anyone really feels the need to get flesh-eating slugs up their nose, go right ahead."

In a flash, he disappeared with the first group of students. The second set stood there in the empty alley behind King's Cross, feeling rather out of place and tempted.

"Do you think he was bluffing?"

"Yeah, probably. The guy's a joke anyway."

"I don't know…"

"Whatever, I'm getting my money back, no matter what he – _OUCH! $% *!_ OH _GOD_ , HE WASN'T JOKING –!"

Andrew returned, and to his pleasant surprise, was missing one person.

"The slugs?" he asked.

Eyes widened at what he had just witnessed, the boy's friend nodded slowly.

Sighing pleasantly, Andrew muttered under his breath, " _Every time…"_ He bent down and rearranged the bricks to cover the bag, and joined hands with the second group, when all of a sudden –

"WAIT! WAIT!"

Suddenly, an extremely familiar-looking redheaded girl, followed in suit by a blonde boy, wormed their way through the group, panting.

"S-Sorry we're late," the girl gasped. "We landed two blocks away because _someone_ let go of the portkey too early…"

"It was an _accident,_ okay?" the boy defended, clearly not in the mood to argue.

"An _accident?_ Who lets go of a portkey in mid-air –?"

While the two argued, Andrew could not help but stare at the girl. He knew her from somewhere… It was on the top of his tongue, in the back of his mind, and somewhere in his eyes. Yes, he knew her. He knew exactly who she was. If only he could…?

" _Granger's kid!"_ Andrew exclaimed, as it all came back to him. "Train station…you, your mom, and your dad…" His eyes narrowed. "…my _flyers."_

The girl turned a ghostly white and stared down at the ground. "Sorry about that," she mumbled. "That was my mom, though – not me." She looked up at him, giving a sympathetic smile. "To be honest, I was kinda interested from what I saw. I've never been like her, really – always going on and on about the Ministry and how _wonderful_ her job is…it's tiring. It really is. And to top it off, even with all of these insane changed Kingsley's been making, she's still completely blind-sighted and follows him around like a lost puppy. Luckily, I remembered the date and time, and I convinced this _idiot_ to come with me." She nudged the boy next to her, who rolled his eyes.

Andrew looked at the boy. "And your name is?"

"Hyperion," the boy replied in a cool voice. "Pure-blood. Came to check things out. I've heard some interesting things about you guys."

Folding his arms, Andrew pressed, "From _whom?"_

 _Hyperion_ didn't even blink. "You don't share your sources, I don't share mine," he answered simply, bored-sounding.

For a moment, Andrew stared him down, analyzing this new guy. Finally, he broke into a cocky grin. "I like this kid," he decided aloud. "A man who understands boundaries. I respect that." His eyes drifted towards the girl. " _You,_ however –"

Cutting him off, the girl leapt to defend her case. "Look, I'm _not_ like my mom and dad, okay? I'm different. I'm tired of being tied to them and their _stupid,_ mudblood-loving cronies...I'm ready to change things. I'm ready to put power in the hands of those who actually deserve it."

"You're a Halfblood," he pointed out, his eyes narrowing once more. "Your mum's a mudblood."

She rolled her eyes, sighing at his ignorance. "Do you _really_ think she would've gotten this far if she was? Those Death Eaters would've slaughtered her in the first ten seconds of that war – no, she's only been faking it to get their support…and, of course, to get on her _beloved_ Minister's good side."

Andrew looked unconvinced.

"I'm _not_ my parents. Don't hold that against me. Please."

She was a lucky girl. Lucky – maybe because Andrew Smelting knew his way around the city but wasn't too bright. Lucky – maybe because Andrew Smelting slept through all of his History of Magic classes. Lucky – maybe because Andrew Smelting saw a bit of himself in the little girl, pleading to not be judged. Yes – Andrew was an Unknown. He never knew either of his parents and never had cared much to find them…until it mattered. So now, he was a Pureblood, but for all he knew, he could be one of those creatures he hated so ferociously. It was his utmost fear – to dig up his roots and find poison. For now, he lived in blissful unknowing. For _now._

Whatever the reason, the girl was truly lucky, and with his nod of approval, she knew she had won the revolutionary over. But that didn't stop his questions.

"You said you came by portkey? How?"

"An unregistered one. Got it off a seventh year for a heavy price."

"Huh," he mumbled, deciphering their answer. He walked around the two, looking them up and down, and finalizing his answer. "Fine, you can come."

The two Hogwarts students shared an accomplished grin.

"Now, empty your pockets."

The grinning stopped. The girl whipped her head to face him, convinced she had heard him incorrectly. "I'm sorry?"

" _Empty you pockets._ Safety precautions."

The two shared a worried look. It did not go unnoticed by the escort.

"Problem?" Andrew asked, eyebrows raised.

The boy was the one to answer first. "No problem," he answered smoothly. "Only we have our portkey in there."

"What's the portkey?"

"Pocket watch," the boy replied. "Hence the _pocket."_

"Whose?"

Hyperion gestured to the girl beside him.

"There's no way I'm touching that thing," Andrew said, shaking his head. "I'm done with that wacko-school." He waved it off. "Keep it in there – just give me everything else."

The girl shot the boy a quick look, but he nodded in reassurance, and they disposed of their belongings – only two galleons, a few wrappers, and a bracelet from the girl – into the bag.

Andrew tied it once more and shoved it back in its hiding spot. "Oh yeah – and don't touch that until we get back. Anyone else removes it other than me, and they get a nice serving of flesh-eating slugs."

"He's not kidding!" added a kid in the group.

Rolling his eyes, Andrew told the two, "Join the group. Everyone hold hands!"

They did so quickly, knowing that he wouldn't wait for them if he didn't have to. Andrew looked around the group of newbies, and with a cocky smirk plastered on his oily face, told them, "Alright, newbies… _welcome to Freed Blood_."

And with a _whoosh,_ the alleyway became abandoned once more.


	18. The One Left Behind

"Check it again."

"Blimey, Dean, I've checked eighty times, and I'm telling you – there's no change."

"No, that can't be right. Maybe your charm's bogus."

" _You're_ offending _my_ charms?"

"Just – check it again."

"Fine…yeah, no change."

"Still?"

"Still."

"That's it. I'm going to find them, and –"

"– and blow their covers."

"I don't know. I just don't know. You got a better idea, Seamus?"

"…"

"God, I can't take this. Something's wrong. Something's terribly wrong – I feel it in my bones. We never should've sent those kids in there."

"We had to, you know that. Anyone older and it would've been suspicious."

"Then – load us up with Polyjuice Potion!"

"Dean, we have _no idea_ what they're capable of. For all we know, they could detect it, and before you know it, we've lost another squad member."

"Anything's better than sending two _eleven year-olds_ in there. I can't imagine sending my own daughter in – and Ron and Hermione's –?"

"Calm down, okay? There's no need to assume the worst just yet."

" _Just yet?"_

"Listen to me. Maybe circumstances came around and they had to give them up. Chances are, they're alright."

"But we can't just sit here."

"You're right. You're completely and utterly correct, but here's the thing – we can't just barge in, track them down, and show up at the rally ourselves. That's insanity."

"Then we peak around and see if they're still there, and if it's all clear, find the galleon and see if we can track them from there!"

"…maybe. Give them a little time. No need to go rogue just yet. Have a little faith, will you? "

"Fine. But only a little while longer, then we see if we can find them."

"Right."

"…"

"…"

"Kingsley must be _really_ desperate to try to pull a stunt like this."

"That's just the problem – he is."

0o0o0

The first thing Rose Weasley noticed was the quiet.

She wasn't really sure what she had been expecting, really – a sort of wrestling-match setting, with screaming rally members and angsty teenagers yelling about Mudbloods into microphones. Or maybe a crowded pub, with everyone all clumped together while someone preached about the importance of blood purity. Heck, maybe even a scene of utter chaos, with people throwing chairs and spray-painting anti-Muggle slurs on the walls. But certainly not this. The silence in itself was deafening.

They were in an underground bunker or bungalow of some kind – Rose could tell from the absence of windows. They stared down a long, dimly-lit hallway. The first group was nowhere to be seen. Rose looked down to see dull, gray shag carpeting. The lights flickered every once in a while, and there was no sign of any other rooms besides at the end of the hall, were a large wooden door stood.

Andrew, taking delight in the children's obvious confusion, ushered them forward. "This way, newbies," he said, and they all began down the dim hall. The walls were painted porcelain white, but appeared gray in the near-darkness. When they had reached the door, Andrew turned back to face them and warned, "No funny business. Any one of you acts up, and I will personally see to it that your wand _and_ neck is snapped, got it?"

The kids quickly nodded, and Andrew threw open the door.

Rose's mind could only form a single word:

 _Whoa._

The room suddenly opened up, with fifteen-foot ceilings and columns made out of quartz. The floor was shining granite, and the walls were a brighter, cleaner version of the paint in the hall. Portraits of serious-looking wizards and witches hung on all four walls. It was like a great ballroom to some grand estate – not at all like the entry way to a secret rebellion. It was a palace. And yet, everything about it gave Rose a strange feeling – a sense of dread in the pit of her stomach, silently begging her to leave while she still could.

"The first group's already inside," he continued, pointing to a pair of golden doors on the opposite side of the room. "Single file. Now."

The newbies quickly lined up, Rose quickly placing herself behind her fellow spy. Their eyes met briefly, a panicked look passing between them. Rose squeezed his hand encouragingly, and it was only then that she noticed he was shaking – only slightly, but still.

"Rose," he whispered once Andrew was walking away from the group.

"Hmm?"

"They're all Death Eaters," he said quickly. "The portraits – they're all of Death Eaters." He pointed towards a picture of a curly-haired woman with wild eyes. "That's Bellatrix Lestrange." Moving his hand, he muttered, "And there's Barty Crouch Jr. And over there –"

Rose poked her head around to see what had stopped him. Scorpius had turned a pale white, his eyes wide like saucers.

His finger was pointing across the room, right beside the double doors. It was a rather large portrait of a tall, refined-looking wizard with long, silvery blonde hair. His eyes, even in the brushstrokes of the painting, were cold and unconsoling. Rose had seen those eyes. But those eyes had the ability to melt into the warm, loving ones of a father. These, however, were seemingly incapable of affection. She didn't have to think twice as to who it might be.

Scorpius finally faced his fellow Gryffindor, a softer version of the same piercing blue eyes from the portrait staring into her own. He finally muttered, "That's – that's my –" He swallowed. "That's my grandfather."

Rose nodded, unable to tear her eyes away from the picture.

"This is all wrong," Scorpius whispered, shaking his head. "Why would they be hanging his portrait? He fled towards the end of the Battle – after that, any credit he had as a Death Eater was practically revoked. Of course, he still landed in Azkaban, but still…" His voice trailed off, and he finally tore his eyes away from his grandfather. "Why would they hang the portrait of a coward?"

Rose felt a pang in her gut. _Why would they…?_ _What if this…?_

"I don't like this," Scorpius muttered again. "Rose, something's wrong. We need to go."

Nodding, Rose agreed. "Alright, let me get the portkey before –"

As if on cue, Andrew Smelting, as smug and greasy-looking as ever, came back towards them. "They're ready for you," he told the newbies. "Stand up straight, answer if asked a question, don't question if asked, and do everything you're told. Remember – we didn't force you to come here, so any accidents, injuries, or strange markings are completely on your own consciences."

The last comment sent a chill through the air. No one said a word.

Nodding approvingly, Andrew said, "Good. Now, follow me."

And the two double doors swung open, and Andrew led them inside.

The room was much dimmer than the previous, but also much larger. The silhouettes of several hooded figures sat at a long table on the far side of the room. A crowd of similarly-cloaked figures surrounded them, all on one knee. Rose was surprised as she passed their shadowed faces – many were young, her age and older. There were a few that were over thirty, but they were scarce. As they passed by the kneeling attendees, they slowly stood and faced the newcomers. The darkness made it impossible to tell one from the other, to tell man from female. They were all one in the same – a single, unified force cloaked in darkness.

They finally came to a halt in front of the table. Rose finally caught sight of the first group. She recognized many of them from Hogwarts. How they got there, she had no clue. A few Ravenclaws – a handful of Gryffindors – a cluster of Slytherins, including John Bampton, and –

A single, unified force, maybe – but one pair of brilliantly green eyes stared back at her, a thousand times brighter than the rest.

 _Al?_

0o0o0

"Well, how was I supposed to know? What idiot would charm it to shoot _flesh-eating slugs?!"_

"God, Seamus, never mind that! Just search the bag."

"…hair clip…earrings…a Sickle…gum wrappers…two galleons!"

"Are they _our_ galleons?"

"Yeah, they have the same nitch we carved in them. So…this is a good thing, right? They're okay – seems like _everyone_ had to give up their stuff."

"But they're helpless now. If anything happened to that portkey…"

"…they're on their own."

"Seamus, we have to find them."

"But how? Any bright ideas?"

"…"

"…"

"…wait a minute. What was _not_ in the bag?"

"The _dignity_ of whatever _idiot_ put _flesh-eating slugs –!"_

"What was _not_ in the bag that _should've_ been there?"

"Wait…whoa. Bloody hell – does that mean –?"

"They still have it! And doesn't the Ministry track all portkeys?"

"Thomas, I never thought I'd say this, but you're a bloody genius."

"And you're a moron."

"Thanks, mate – I'm really glad we have this relationship built on mutual respect."

0o0o0

"Rose. Don't you dare."

"But – _Scorp –"_

"No. Shut up and stay in character."

" _Stay in character!_ How can I _stay in character_ in a time like this?"

"We'll talk about it later, okay?"

"No. We're talking about it now."

Rose _tried_ to whisper – she really did – but it was by far the most difficult thing she ever had to do.

" _Albus Severus Potter!_ What the bloody hell do you think you're doing here?"

Al, horrified, looked around to see if anyone had noticed. "Keep your voice down, will you?" he whispered.

" _Keep my voice down?_ Oh, I'll keep my voice down, alright! How could you, Al? After all your parents have been through – bloody hell, when they get their hands on you –!"

Before she could say another word, Albus pulled her aside while the rest of her group was still coming up the center aisle. Luckily, no one seemed to be watching them.

Al looked equally stunned, a strange look in his eyes – a mix between repulsion and confusion. "I could say the same thing about you!" he whispered angrily. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Rose's jaw dropped. "What am _I_ doing here? The real question is, what are _you_ doing here?" she cried at the lowest volume possible.

Suddenly, Al's eyes landed on the blonde boy a few feet away. "What is _he_ doing here?!" he whispered, his astonishment doubling.

Scorpius offered a feeble hand wave, a look of similar confusion on his pale face.

"He's with me," Rose told her cousin, offering it as a perfect explanation. Gesturing towards the Slytherins in front of them, she asked, "Why are you with _them?_ They have a reputation for –"

"– for not keeping secrets from their best friends?" Al finished, a look of hurt and rage on his face. "Yeah, you're right. Isn't that just _wonderful?"_

Seeing that she was losing, Rose's pride simmered for a moment, and in a smaller, more vulnerable voice, said earnestly, "You shouldn't be here, Al. You don't belong here."

Al opened his mouth as if to argue, but stopped and looked around them for a moment. He wanted to cry, scream, yell at her for leaving him behind, for leaving him out, for making him trade places with her and forcing him to become the odd one out. But the words never came. Instead, he explained best he could.

"I'm not a Gryffindor," he said hopelessly. "I'm not even a Potter anymore, at least by James's standards. I'm not your best friend anymore." He shoved his hands in his pockets, trying not to meet Rose's eye. "I may not belong here, but seems I don't really belong anywhere anymore, huh?"

Rose went to argue, but suddenly, one of the hooded men on the far end of the table stood and all chatting quickly silenced. With one last begging look towards her cousin, she walked back and took her place beside Scorpius.

"Great job. You're truly the master of incognito," Scorpius muttered sarcastically. Rose, for once, didn't argue and just ignored him, putting all of her attention on the tall, hooded man on the stage before them.

While all the other attendees sat on stone benches, the new recruits were right in front of the platform where the men sat. Whoever they were, they were obviously in charge around here – the way everyone silenced whenever any of them even flinched, the look of devout respect and fear in everyone's eyes. It reminded Rose of those creepy cult movies James and Fred had tried to make her watch when she was little, hoping to get her to wet her pants. As it turns out, she loved them, and Fred and James were the ones who wet their pants. But this took those movies to an entirely realistic level. Rose was preparing herself for some creepy Latin chanting, when suddenly…everything changed.

The man took down his cloak and was, as it turns out, not even a man at all. The woman before her was tall, with sharp, harsh-looking features. Her eyes were a strange, almost luminescent yellow, and her lips were a blood red, extremely defined above her pointed chin. She could be considered beautiful to some, but her beauty would simply be an afterthought to her prowess.

"Dear associates, loyal members, and new recruits," the woman purred in a thick, German accent, which resembled the soft hum of a hornet's nest just before it burst. "There comes a time in one's life where sitting along the sidelines is simply no longer an option. At some point, we must take charge, take the reins of our own futures, before someone else steps in and tarnishes the once perfect ideals and morals we cherish. That moment is now. That day is today. Those in power wish to drag us down, to keep our freedom bottled up. But we will no longer stay silent!"

There was an enthusiastic chorus of agreement from the crowd, even some newbies joining in. A few lines in, and this woman already had her audience in the palm of her hand. Rose was both amazed and utterly terrified.

"We will no longer wear these chains!" she continued, her eyes narrowed, but the rest of her face contorted into a passionate expression. "We will no longer live in this prison they have built for us! We will no longer allow our brilliant race to be undignified by the presence of the species below us! We will not sit back and allow them to destroy pure families, a millennia in the making. No – not until _our blood is free!"_

The crowd burst into cheers, some even sobbed victoriously, their hoods falling to reveal tear-stained cheeks. All around her, the newbies applauded vigorously. Scorpius met her eyes and gave her a pointed look. Only then did she realize that she hadn't joined in. Correcting her mistake, Rose continued to play her role, applauding along with the rest of them.

The woman then took a step back, and standing straight and tall, held two fingers on each hand, crossing each other to almost form a number sign, but more resembling a cross. Holding it high and proudly, she called out victoriously, "FREE OUR BLOOD!"

The entire crowd soon held up their own cross symbols, repeating after her, "FREE OUR BLOOD!" The newbies, most of them still trying to figure out the symbol, only joined the chorus of chants instead.

The woman took a seat at the far end of the table. Following her, a tall, graying wizard with a long, wispy beard stood and took her place at the front of the stage.

His voice was low and raspy, most likely from years of pointless arguing with those who refused to agree. "Thank you, Claudine, for kicking us off with a fine does of spirit!" he said proudly. "Welcome all, to the bi-annual Freed Blood open-attendance rally. Twice a year, we open our doors to those who may not usually have the opportunity to join in our noble cause. So the newcomers, we welcome you." The crowd applauded politely for the twenty-or-so teenagers in front of the stage.

He continued, "As you know, this year we've made eloquent improvement in the fight against undignified blood mixing with those of wizards and unfair equality for races below our own. In May, we picketed and paraded the streets on the day the pitiful, mudblood organization known as _S.P.E.W._ attempted to convince the Ministry to grant house elves complete regard as citizens."

Throughout the crowd, there was murmuring laughter and immediate rebuttal. Rose squeezed Scorpius's hand tightly, trying to silently release the deafening fury she felt inside. Rose remembered that day – she had never seen her mother so in her element, so spirited about a cause she truly cared for. Of course, she had only witnessed a few of her court trials, and most of her fight for Muggleborn equality took place when she was very young. So it was such a brilliant thing to see her face off those who had tried so hard to tear her down. But then, of course –

"With some well-placed advertising and convincing of the board members – not all, but still, enough – we managed to tie up the court's vote and post-pone the needless trial until an undetermined date. And of course, given all the recent opposition the Minister has been facing in recent years, I'm sure he has a bit too much on his plate to deal with silly, pointless whining from a Muggle-loving brat."

Rose's nails dug into Scorpius's sweating hand.

"We hope to continue further excursions like that in the future, and the moment any news of a pro-Muggle or lower-creature case comes again, we will be sure to let you know and organize opposition as quickly as possible," he announced. " _However,_ these simplistic riots are getting us nowhere quickly. The Ministry has yet to discover who we are, and it is about time we take our demonstrations a step forward. In what direction? The direction of our freedom – the direction of a final solution towards total wizarding purity!"

The crowd was nearly bursting with enthusiasm. The kids around the two Gryffindors shouted in approval, while Rose and Scorpius couldn't seem to unlodge their hearts from their throats.

"But we need help. We need resources. We are not like our predecessors – oh, no. We don't slaughter, we smother. We don't hunt down, we strike. We don't spill blood, we set it free." He smiled cruelly, like he knew a terrible truth his audience had yet to know. "While we may not execute the same way they did, we still continue their ideals and hope for total blood purity. But we need someone to lead us there. Someone who can take the bull by the horns, teach us the old ways with a refined sense of the modern age. Someone who has seen the cruelty the Ministry displays to those undeserving of it. Someone with an iron fist, who can finally lead us towards conquering the wizarding world once and for all."

There was suddenly a loud slam of the golden doors behind them. All the hooded members immediately directed their attention to the figure making his way down the aisle. It was dim – Rose couldn't make out who it could be, but whoever it was, walked with an overwhelming sense of purpose, each step equivalent to a thousand years' worth of truth and another million's worth of lies.

Finally, the man reached the stage and turned to face the crowd, finally in the light.

The silver hair.

The refined stature.

The condescending glance.

And the eyes – oh, the eyes – such a bitterly freezing blue.

` " _Lucius Malfoy,"_ the man introduced himself, his voice tempting and cunning, like a loud whisper of thunder. He gripped a silver walking stick, holding it with a great sense of purpose. The only thing showing from his time in Azkaban were the dark rings around his eyes, but he had cleaned up quite a bit besides. The evidence of exhaustion somehow made him even more intimidating.

His icy blue eyes drifted downwards at a small boy who stood in the crowd, fixated on the man who had just entered.

His face remained passive for a fraction of a second before breaking into a knowing smirk.

"Hello, _Scorpius._ How's daddy?"


	19. Impressionable Minds

Scorpius's mind was in a thousand – no, a million – places at once. Altogether, they could be simplified into three short questions.

 _Who?_

Lucius Malfoy, the grandfather he had never met. This man had existed only in newspaper clippings, obscure family photos, and nightmares. And yet, here he was, standing before him. On few occasions as Scorpius grew, his father had sat with him and allowed him to ask any possible questions he had about the family. Scorpius, as a child, wasn't afraid of asking. Draco, an adult, was terrified of answering but found that he could never shy away from his son's curious gaze. And so, accompanying midnight snacks and bedtime accidents, came the bits and pieces of lost family history and stories and all the pain that went with them.

0o0o0

 _"_ _Who were they?"_

 _"_ _They called themselves Death Eaters."_

 _"_ _So…you…you were one of them?"_

 _Draco sighed at the saddened expression on his six year-old's face. "That I was."_

 _Little Scorpius scrunched his nose in confusion. "But why?" he asked, his blonde hair tasseled from tossing and turning in his sleep. "I thought you were one of the good guys."_

 _Scooping up his son and placing him on his knee, Draco Malfoy took a breath and began reciting his inner-most belief, "Scorpius – you know Harry Potter, right?" His son nodded vigorously. "Okay...good guy or bad guy?"_

 _"_ _Good guy,_ duh," _Scorpius answered quickly._

 _"_ _Voldemort," said his father fearlessly, despite his son's shudder at the word. "Good guy or bad guy?"_

 _Scorpius's blue eyes were fraught with confusion, wondering what could be the point of all these obvious questions. "Bad guy, Daddy, you know that," he answered._

 _"_ _Okay…Albus Dumbledore."_

 _"_ _Good guy."_

 _"_ _Rita Skeeter."_

 _The little boy wrinkled his nose in disgust. "You mean, the lady who was at my birthday last year? The one with the poofy hair and weird pen-thing?"_

 _Draco chuckled. "That's the one."_

 _Scorpius shook his head vigorously. "I don't like her. Not-so-nice guy."_

 _Draco nodded, thinking. "Good, good…now…your daddy. Am I a good guy or a bad guy?"_

 _His son smiled at his father, his two front teeth missing, but warmly, nevertheless. "The goodest good guy," he told him sincerely. Then, as an afterthought, the little boy furrowed his brow. "But…then why were you a Death Eater? Aren't they the bad guys?"_

 _"_ _I'm getting to that," Draco promised, and his son continued to listen._

 _"_ _Alright, now Scorpius, other than me, how many of these people do you know? And I mean, really and truly know?"_

 _"_ _Well…I mean…I met Skeeter last year, but I never really_ talked _to her that much," the boy admitted. "She tried to ask me some questions, but Mummy kept her away."_

 _"_ _And I'm glad for it," Draco admitted, continuing, "but no one else I mentioned?"_

 _Scorpius shook his head._

 _"_ _Then, how do you know if they're good guys or bad guys? If you haven't met them?"_

 _"_ _Stories," his son replied thoughtfully. "You and Mummy's stories, and of course, everyone knows about Harry Potter and You-Know – Voldemort."_

 _"_ _For a similar reason, people have made their own decisions about me," Draco continued. "The entire family, believe it or not. Stories have a way of travelling around, you see, and it doesn't matter to whom – old people, young people, people who can't make up their minds, and people who believe that every word they say is clean-cut truth." He took a breath, contemplating his words, knowing that every phrase he said would greatly affect his son's impressionable mind. "What I'm trying to say, Scorpius, is…too many, not everyone, but many…I'm one of the bad guys."_

 _"_ _You?" Scorpius wondered aloud, his eyes widening._

 _"_ _Yes – me," Draco confirmed. "And do you know why?"_

 _Scorpius said nothing._

 _"_ _I made a mistake – a terrible, terrible mistake," his father said in a soft voice. "I was very scared back then, Scorpius. And that's not necessarily a bad thing – being scared. But it's what I did with that fear…that was where I went wrong."_

 _The pieces of the puzzle were slowly coming together. "You became one of them," his son began. "A Death Eater."_

 _His father nodded slowly. "I made a mistake, and pretty soon, everyone knew about. There were stories. Thousands, millions, billions of them – floating around from one person to the next, each one with its differences and added features, each one shedding different light on what had truly gone on."_

 _"_ _But I was lucky, son. Unlike so many of the others, I realized my mistake, and I did my best to fix it. But even when I did, those stories were still out there – and it was too late to take them back. Do you know what the worst part was?"_

 _Scorpius looked on inquisitively._

 _"_ _They were true," he answered bitterly. "In the same way you see Dumbledore as a hero, Voldemort as a terrible villain, Harry Potter as a savior – people still see me as one of them. But what they don't realize, Scorpius, is that I've changed, or at least, I've tried to. I've tried so hard to become a deserving man, to become one of the good guys."_

 _"_ _So why don't you?"_

 _"_ _Stories," Draco put it simply. "Stories still exist, and as hard as you may try to, they always find a way to pull you back to the starting line. Sometimes, it doesn't even matter how much money you've donated, what you've done to help repairs, or even who was there to watch you change – people still remember the tales of you being on the wrong side, and that's enough." He sighed, and added, "So, I'll ask you one more time – am I a good guy or a bad guy?"_

 _Scorpius bit his lip. "You were a Death Eater."_

 _"_ _Yes."_

 _"_ _You're not one anymore. "_

 _"_ _Yes."_

 _"_ _You're my daddy."_

 _"_ _Yes, and proud to be so."_

 _Finally, Scorpius shook his head. "You're one of the good guys, Daddy," he said earnestly. "Only, people don't know it yet."_

 _A misty-looking smile grew on Draco Malfoy's pale face, melting the iciness that had long tarnished his blue eyes. "And – if you were me – how would you fix it?"_

 _"_ _I'd tell stories," his son answered without hesitation. "But I'd change how it ends."_

 _Prouder than ever before, Draco ruffled his son's askew locks of white-blonde hair. "You know, for your age, you're pretty smart."_

 _Scorpius smiled back at him, and said, "So are –" But his eyes landed on a strange mark on his father's arm. It was faded, but still ever-present on the backside of his forearm. He had seen it in pictures but never had noticed it in real life. His father usually wore his suit for work or long pajamas, the arms completely covered, but he had rolled them up to his elbows when bracing for this difficult discussion. And low and behold, there it was._

 _"_ _Is that –? Is that where they –?" he began to ask._

 _Draco's eyes cast down at the mark, and the iciness returning to his eyes, nodded._

 _Scorpius couldn't seem to take his eyes off of it. "Can I –?" But he needn't say more – his father gave him a curt nod, and the little boy's small, pale fingers reached out to touch the skin._

 _"_ _It feels weird," he noted, running his thumb up and down the strange design. "Like…it's bumpy, but only where the color is."_

 _Draco managed a small smile at his son's candid observations. He was fairly certain that the Dark Mark had never been described in such a way before – a way that could only be seen through the eyes of a child._

 _Out of nowhere, his son perked up and asked, "Did Grandpa have one of those?"_

 _Draco inhaled sharply at the mention of his father. "Yes," he answered cautiously._

 _"_ _Does Grandma?"_

 _"_ _Yes."_

 _"_ _Do_ I _have one?"_

 _His father's eyes softened. With a guilty sigh, he placed his hand on the boy's small shoulder, and told him sincerely, "No, no, you do not. And I hope you never will."_

 _The final note from the boy's father went something like this: "Make mistakes, Scorpius. Lots of them. Just don't make mine."_

0o0o0

The second question:

 _How?_

He was in Azkaban, Scorpius was sure of that. "Crimes against wizards and Muggles alike" – or, something like that. It was the very topic that brought cold, awkward silence to the dinner table at Christmas, looming over all of them like a dark cloud. His grandmother had gotten out unscathed – well, not unscathed, but unpunished – due to a well-placed word by a certain Boy who owed her greatly. And yet, in small ways, his grandfather lived on. He was the look in his father's eyes whenever anyone openly questioned their family honor. He was every silent tear that slipped out when his grandmother thought no one was looking. He was the mysterious chill in the foyer, which was still haunted by screams of torture and desperate pleas of the innocent.

Lucius Malfoy lived on. He had never met the man, and yet, every time Scorpius looked in the mirror, he had to blink twice to assure himself that his reflection was his own and not that of the dark shadow that was forever cast upon his family tree.

0o0o0

 _"_ _How's he doing?"_

 _Scorpius stood undetected in the hallway, a boy of nine. It was late on Christmas Eve – close to midnight. Like every child attempts to accomplish, Scorpius had tip-toed out of bed in hopes of discovering Santa Claus. Instead of presents and a fat man in a red suit, he came upon his grandmother and father, in the midst of a tense conversation._

 _"_ _Did they say how he was doing?" his father repeated to the old woman, sitting in a chair by the fire._

 _Like usual, his grandmother stared blankly at the flames, as if she were speaking to a ghost._

 _"_ _He mostly sits there, they said," the old woman replied, never tearing her eyes away from the roaring fire. "Eats a little, sleeps a little, but mostly, he just sits and waits."_

 _"_ _Waiting for what, I wonder," Draco mentioned._

 _"_ _God knows," the woman said, shaking her head._

 _"_ _Does he still write to you?"_

 _Wordlessly, the woman took out a small, white envelope sitting on her lap and handed it to her son. Taking it eagerly, the man inspected it thoughtfully._

 _"_ _You haven't opened it yet – why?" Draco asked._

 _"_ _I couldn't bear reading another one," the woman muttered. "It's always the same excuse, the same repeated lie."_

 _The man tore it open and scanned the contents of the page. The message was one he had read countless times before. To sum it up – a vow for revenge on the government that had locked away a "changed man" and a promise to see them again._

 _"_ _Do you think he's really changed?" Draco asked after reading the note._

 _"_ _Any man whose written hundreds of letters for the sole purpose of convincing himself so – I doubt it," the woman said in a quiet voice. "No – I know."_

 _"_ _He still thinks it's the Ministry that put him in that cell. As long as he believes that, I don't see how I can believe in him."_

 _There was a long pause. Scorpius nearly turned to head back upstairs when he heard –_

 _"_ _Do – do you ever think about what life would've been like for us if he never…" Draco's voice trailed off, but his mother understood._

 _"_ _Every minute of every day," she told him, still watching the flames. "But it's pointless to think of such things, I know that. We dug our own graves, Draco, and despite what your father thinks, we have no one to blame but ourselves."_

 _Draco sighed and handed his mother back the note, but the old woman simply held up her hand._

 _"_ _Keep it," she said. "I have another seventy-six just like it at home."_

 _Shoving the paper in his bathrobe pocket, her son wondered aloud, "Why he hasn't lost his mind in there, being cooped up for so long, I'll never know."_

 _But the old woman knew. She always had. "Survival of the fittest. And if there's one thing we Malfoys are good at…"_

 _The little blonde boy in the hall listened with intrigue, as if this woman held the secret to his entire existence._

 _"…_ _it's surviving."_

0o0o0

And the third and final question:

 _Why?_

And the answer – if there was one – was only more questions. Why here? Why now? Why him? Why does the man who condemned his future have to show up at the precise moment he was undoing his past?

Why? Why? Why?

Because.

0o0o0

 _"_ _Why can't we go?"_

 _Draco sighed loudly at his wife's request. "_ Because, _Astoria, we're not welcome there. You know that."_

 _Astoria Greengrass folded her arms, immovable. "Professor McGonagall said we'd be more than welcome to. All Hogwarts alumni and their families are invited." She added in a softer tone, "Besides…I think it would be good for you. For us."_

 _"_ _I paid for the new buildings. I paid for the new field. I even paid for the memorial itself – we have nothing to prove," Draco told his wife. "And I think that if we want to avoid any and all drama or possible conflicts that may result from an emotional battle remembrance, our best bet is to_ stay home."

 _Astoria was relentless. "But don't you think Scorpius would love to get a peek at his new school? He's going next year, whether you like it or not."_

 _"_ _Durmstrang would be a better fit, I'm telling you."_

 _"_ _For_ you _, maybe. But for him?" She shook her head. "He's so like you and yet so unlike you at the same time. It never fails to astound me."_

 _"_ _Think of the things they'll say. What will his classmates think of a Malfoy daring to step foot on Hogwarts grounds?"_

 _"_ _Scorpius isn't an oblivious puppy, Draco. He knows very well of the expectations people place for him, and he's never once shied away from proving them wrong. He'll be fine."_

 _"_ _That's what I'm worried about – sure, he'll be alright in the beginning, and here comes some big guy who dares him to hug the Whomping Willow, he wants to prove himself to his friends, and before we know it, he's coming home in pieces!" Draco threw his hands up in the air and sat down on the bed they shared. "I just…I don't want to see him get hurt because of something he had no control over."_

 _Astoria sat beside him and placed her arm around his shoulders. "I know you're scared. I am, too. But if we never put him out there, he'll amount to nothing more than another coward. And you raised him –_ we _raised him better than that. He's strong. He's smart. Better yet, he's your son, and if he's anything like his father, he'll find his way."_

 _"_ _Eventually," her husband added._

 _"_ _Eventually," she agreed._

 _They sat in silence for a while, enjoying their closeness. Little did they know, a ten year-old boy had his ear pressed against the key hole, listening._

 _"_ _Next year, maybe," Draco offered. "When he's already there."_

 _Astoria nodded. "Sounds good to me." She got up from the bed and began walking towards the restroom._

 _"_ _Oh – and Tori?"_

 _She turned around. "Yes?"_

 _"_ _And if he's anything like his mother, he'll find his place."_

 _"_ _He will."_

 _"_ _I know."_

0o0o0

"Hello, _Scorpius._ How's Daddy?"

The blonde boy before him didn't dare say a word, but stood there, unflinching, in the face of his past.

"How rude," scolded the man coldly. "Won't even greet his own grandfather. Pity. So much potential, wasted away." He took a step closer, looking down at the boy. "You were born in the shadows of great wizards, little Scorpius. It's about time you accepted who you were destined to be."

And so, at that moment, Scorpius knew there was only one thing to do:

Make a mistake. Not his father's, but one that was all his own.

Looking up at the man with narrowed eyes, Scorpius said in a strong voice, "I'm no family of yours."

Lucius looked a bit taken back, expecting a copy of the obedient son he had raised himself. Then, smiling playfully, he commented, "Bravery. So much bravery. I can see why you were condemned to Gryffindor. Bravery…or simply stupidity? There's quite a difference, you know."

His cold eyes drifted to the girl standing beside him, and then to the black-haired boy behind the two.

"Which three don't belong?" he asked, smirking.

He leaned in towards the two Gryffindors.

"The Malfoy…the Weasley…and the _Potter."_


	20. Author's Note 5

**Hiya, guys!**

 **Wow. A lot of things are going on in the story, and I'm doing my best to keep a million balls up in the air! But I just wanted to first and foremost, thank everyone who's been reviewing and following along with each new installment - it means a lot (and encourages me to update sooner :) So...thank you.**

nikkiRiddle - **I'm glad you're such a big fan of Al! I really wanted to present him in a unique way, while in a lot of fanfics, he's more of a throw-away character. I love writing him, and after this little peek with Scorpius, get ready for more Al-Sev-action :) Also, about your comment with Seamus, I chose him to be Dean's Auror-partner for two reasons - #1, with his personality and daringness, I could see no reason why he wouldn't want to take up Kingsley's offer for training, and #2 - Those two are one of my favorite bestie-pairings in Harry Potter. They have great chemistry, and I'm very excited to have the duo continue on...except, now, with kicking Dark wizard butt. Hope you like Seamus better now that we've gotten more into the story! Also, in case you didn't catch it, yes, Al did go with the first group and his Slytherin roommates. As for why Andrew didn't recognize him, I would expect the Potters wouldn't want to exploit their kids and keep their publicized appearances to a minimum. Either way, Andrew, I'm sure, is the type of character who would be more concerned with his status within Freed Blood than to keep up with current events, especially philanthropic ones. Andrew is a very layered character, and I can't wait to delve more into his story in later chapters! Thanks! :)**

TheGirlWhoReads7 - **First off, thank you so much for your positive review! It meant a lot! :) As I said earlier, I really wanted to "get Al right" in this fic. As for him making mistakes and living up to his names...you'll have to wait and see. Don't want to give up any spoilers ;P By the way...as to why James was invited...I suspect it would've had something to do with him being Quidditch captain** ** _and_** **the first born of the Boy Who Lived, but other than that...I suppose it will always remain a mystery :P Slughorn really needs to do more research when it comes to his dinner guests.**

Gogandantes - **Ohhh...wait. I see where you were confused. No, I'm sorry, I misinterpreted your last review - Lucius playing the "racist grandpa"...well...yes. But he was always in Azkaban. I hope I made it more clear in the last chapter. He was able to write letters, but otherwise was not able to visit his family - hence Scorpius saying he had never met him, and yet he was always "there." Sorry for the confusion! Also, don't worry, there will be more Al in future chapters, especially seeing how he's becoming a favorite and has always been a favorite of mine. However, I do see where your coming from with Al being too quick to judge Rose's actions. My reasoning for it is this: rough day, rough week, and the moment he went to turn to the one person he knew he could trust, she didn't reciprocate that trust. I think that if he hadn't been invited to the rally, the argument would've blown over with him admitting he acted too rashly (which is also an attribute to his character. Examples include the Sorting Hat incident...etc...) but because he** ** _was_** **invited and the three of them were spiraled into the world of Freed Blood, the argument never had time to run its course. As for Draco and Rose's parents - I think they acted appropriately. I was tempted to throw in a few side-comments and jabs, but then I realized, they're adults now. And I think that after all they've been through, they can understand forgiveness and act maturely. Thanks for the input though! :) And for Hermione...I never meant that at all, but I think the moment was appropriate as she was watching her daughter embark on her own adventure and, in a way, letting her go a bit more, not to mention the fear that her first-born would get hurt. But I do see where you're coming from and I'll try to avoid that later on :) Finally, as for Seamus, this is just my interpretation of his character and where he would've gone (following his bestie into the great, big world of kicking butt), but I do appreciate your input. Thank you so much! Sorry it's so long :P**

hisuichanxx - **OH GOD NO! I'm so sorry for the scare! No, but I don't ship them...it's just...I don't know...wrong. I always felt that Rose is the one for him, given their hinting in the Epilogue and preconceptions of each other...they're just too perfect :P (NOTE: AGAIN, THEY WILL NOT DATE AT THE MOMENT. THIS SHIP WILL SAIL AT A LATER DATE.) I'm so glad you liked "future Draco" - Rowling herself has mentioned that Scorpius has had a good affect on him, and I agree with you - him becoming a father would definitely impact his character for the better. And thank you so much - I'm so glad you're enjoying this fic!**

 **Also, I think now would be a good time to point something out. I've slightly changed the plot synopsis in order for it to cover all seven years, should I choose to continue it (which I hope and think that I will!) I would love to take these characters all the way through their journey at Hogwarts - I have a lot of interesting ideas for further plots and scenarios, and I hope that if it works out, you guys will continue to enjoy it! :)**

KARontheroad - **Thank you so much! And I'm glad you enjoyed the mini-message about kindness and pity. It's one of the major themes that influenced Andrew's character. But, yes, Scor and Rose are going rogue :P No galleons here. As for how this affects their adventure, you'll just have to find out! :D**

ProcrastinatingRavenclaw001 - **First off, can I just say that I love your username? It pretty much sums up my entire existence :P But I'm so glad you're enjoying the story! (I, too, fell victim to Hunger Games fanfiction...*sigh*...) And as for Lucius, I'm glad. You're supposed to :D Thank you so much for reviewing!**

.940436 - **I'm so glad you liked it! It was important to me that I dove into Scorpius's past and, like Rose and Al, but in a different way, in the shadows of giants - the giants being his family's history as Dark wizards. Again, thank you so much and hope you enjoy future chapters!**

 **Input Time! Here we go...**

 **\- What did you guys think about Andrew's chapter? Liked the insight? I thought it would be interesting to take a break and tell this segment from a new perspective. Hope you guys enjoyed it :)**

 **\- Predictions on Al's course of action, given his responses to Andrew and Rose?**

 **\- How do you like Andrew's character? Thoughts? Predictions on where he'll take the story?**

 **\- Thoughts on Freed Blood? My goal was to keep the shadow of mystery about them, but also take a more Nazi-esque, political approach to it.**

 **\- Like the Dean/Seamus banter/discussions/moments? Love those guys...**

 **\- Thoughts or opinions on Rose's reaction to seeing her cousin at the rally, and vice-versa?**

 **\- (So excited to read these!) Predictions as to why and how Lucius Malfoy is working with Freed Blood? Thoughts on how these two situations tie together?**

 **\- Did you enjoy the young Scorpius/Draco interaction in the flashback? And Draco's explanation to his six year-old son? This moment was so wonderful to write. I hope you guys enjoyed it.**

 **\- What do you think will happen to Rose and Scorpius now that Lucius has arrived?**

 **Again, I can't thank you guys enough for reviewing, following, and favoriting! I hope you've enjoyed the story so far and will continue to Also, 40 reviews! Wow! Keep reading...we're just getting started )**


	21. A Different Animal

_"_ _Potter…?"_

 _"_ _We've got a Potter?"_

 _"_ _And a Weasley, to top it off…"_

 _"_ _What's going on?"_

 _"_ _His grandson, by God…"_

But Lucius Malfoy only grinned – almost snake-like – at the attention drawn from the three first years. Rose tried desperately to reach for Scorpius's hand, hoping he might offer her some form of comfort or vice-versa, but the boy's eyes were locked onto his grandfather's, transfixed on the man he was so terrified of becoming. Rose herself couldn't seem to look the man in the eye – each time she tried, she had the strange sense of a bitter chill in the air, as if he knew what she was thinking, what was really going on.

But he couldn't. They could simply play it off like they had with Andrew. Right?

But that was Andrew. This man was an entirely different animal – cunning, suave, with a sort of formality to every word and movement that you couldn't help but respect and dread. The problem was – you couldn't do both.

Without breaking eye contact from the terrified first years, the silver-haired man called, "Andrew?"

From the side of the stage, a panting Andrew Smelting sprinted onto the stage, his greasy hair shining with sweat. A panicked expression was locked onto his face. "Y-Yes, s-sir? Um – sorry – M-Malfoy?"

"Did you authorize these three?" he asked the trembling teenager.

The boy only nodded, beads of sweat dripping from his forehead.

Malfoy pointed a pale white finger at his grandson. "This one?"

"Y-Yes, sir," Andrew confirmed. "That's Hyperion."

Lucius Malfoy stopped and turned towards the teen, a sheet of ice seemingly covering every person in the room. His cold eyes set upon the young man. " _Hyperion?"_ he repeated, blank of emotion.

Andrew only stared.

" _Hyperion?"_ he said once more, turning back to his grandson. Suddenly, a crooked smile broke onto his face. An almost alien laugh erupted from inside of him, both cruel and taunting. "As in, Scorpius _Hyperion_ Malfoy?" The young boy cowered, staring at the ground. His grandfather laughed once more. "If you were going to use an alias, you could've been a _bit_ more original!"

A few audience members joined in the laughter, while the rest of the room remained deadly quiet.

Lucius moved onto the girl next to him. " _Rose Weasley,"_ he addressed her. Unlike her partner in crime, Rose did her best to keep her eyes locked onto his, a silent act of defiance. "I'd absolutely _love_ to hear your excuse. Andrew?"

Andrew hesitantly entered the conversation. "Ah – uh, you see, sir – that's – that's Rose Weasley," he stuttered, gesturing to the red-headed girl.

"I know that, Smelting," Malfoy spat. "The real question is – what _idiot_ would let _her_ in? The daughter of Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger? The niece of _Harry Potter?"_

Answering this question caused no problem for the young revolutionary. "Oh _no!_ Sir, it's alright! You see, I thought about that, but it _turns out_ that Granger Girl was never even a mudblood anyway! It was all a sham!"

Lucius Malfoy stared.

Andrew stared back.

"Get this idiot out of my sight," the Death Eater finally commanded, a deadpan expression on his pale face.

Two of the cloaked men from the table stood and came towards Andrew and grabbed his shoulders with their leather-cladded gloves. The teenager struggled to shove them off, but realizing his scrawniness ruined the effort, finally stopped and looked up at Lucius. The man only chuckled.

"Oh, Andrew," he said, shaking his head, "you poor, _negligent_ boy." He nodded to the hooded men. "Take him to the holding cell. Then we will decide what to do with him."

Andrew struggled against the weight of the men pulling him away, putting every bit of his strength in his desperate attempt to break free. With a wild, confused look in his eyes, he yelled out, "Wait – what are you _doing?_ I'm a faithful member – I've _always_ been faithful!"

Lucius shook his head at the disgraceful sight before him. "Sadly, Mr. Smelting, that's not the problem. The _real_ situation is your negligence. I have been recruited to take this organization to the next stage, to make that leap towards a purified race. Our members must be people of stature, people who uphold the core values that make us strong. People like _you,_ however, are not going to get us there." He nodded once more to the men, who continued to drag him away.

"WAIT! WAIT – _PLEASE!_ I'VE BEEN FAITHFUL! I NEVER MEANT TO –"

The golden doors slammed shut, and Andrew Smelting's cries of innocence faded.

"I will not tolerate idiocy," he said to the crowd. "I did not escape Azkaban for nothing, and I intend to accomplish all that I have promised. Your help is appreciated. Anyone who stands in my way, however…" His voice trailed off, the completion of his sentence unnecessary.

There was a long moment of silence before Lucius Malfoy clasped his hands together and faced the black-haired boy in the row behind.

"Mr…Potter."

The boy looked up at the man with two large, green eyes.

"Can I just –?" the man began to ask, but without an answer, he leaned over and flipped the boy's bangs upwards, his eyes scanning the boy's bare forehead. "Excuse me – force of habit. Physically, you are _so similar._ Mentally…well…you are _here,_ aren't you?"

The boy was silent.

"So what I want to know is _why._ Why would the son of the man who destroyed the Dark Lord want to attend a blood purity rally?" he asked as if the very question was some sort of astounding observation of the universe.

The boy was silent.

"But you're _not_ your father, aren't you? You're different. Perhaps you've come to question their free-loving practices. Perhaps you've realized how very wrong they've been."

The boy was silent.

" _Or_ does this have something to do with the noble house of Salazar Slytherin? Don't look at me like that – _of course,_ I know. The crest on your sweater did give me a hint as well, I must admit. But I simply cannot fathom…a _Potter?_ In Slytherin? I'm sure your father must be _so proud."_

Again, the boy was silent.

Albus muttered something under his breath, staring at the ground.

"I'm sorry?" Lucius asked him, cupping his ear.

Swallowing, Albus said, "You're one to talk. Why don't you take a look at your own _grandson?"_

Lucius Malfoy's expression was unreadable.

"I may be a Slytherin," the boy continued boldly, "but he's a _Malfoy_ in _Gryffindor._ Before you start laying the shame, why don't you take a look in the mirror?"

"A little spit-fire, aren't you?" he asked the boy, a spark of anger slowly raging into a fire. "Sadly, we don't award blatant stupidity here. You've crossed the wrong man, Potter, and I don't care what your reason is. As for your little cousin, don't think for a moment she had me fooled."

He paced along the edge of the stage, his hands folded behind him. "I have a third theory, you see. It stems from a very reliable inside source. Two of you three – and I'd like to assume _which_ two –" He glanced at Rose and Albus. " – are not simply curious young Hogwarts students. I know who you're working for, and honestly? I'm disappointed. I thought you could sink no lower. _Guards!"_

Four hooded men appeared from the table and seized the two cousins from behind, clamping their gloved hands tightly onto their shoulders.

"What are we to do with them, sir?" one of the guards asked.

Malfoy thought for a moment. "Keep them safe…for now. We can use them to our advantage. We'll – to coin a phrase – _pick their brains_ on a few subjects." He grinned wickedly. "And who knows what their dear parents are willing to do for their safe return?"

Albus stood silently and still, processing what he had just said. Rose, however, was not wasting a moment. She tried to throw them off with everything she could, kicking and flailing and cursing at the guards with all sorts of colorful words. Scorpius could only watch, feeling more helpless than ever.

Rose cried, her face as red as her hair, "You have to let us go immediately! Or I'm going to call my father, and he is going to come in here with every Auror on staff, and _I swear to God_ –!"

"Rose," Albus told her, quietly and firmly. He had never felt so defeated, so meaningless, in his life.

At the word, Rose became still, her fight simmering.

"As for you, my grandson…" Malfoy began, stepping towards the blonde boy, "…I am about to offer you the chance of a lifetime, and if you have any sense, you're going to accept – do I make myself clear?"

Scorpius only nodded, his mind scattered, panic setting in but doing everything not to show it. The portkey was in Rose's pocket…but with the guards, how would he be able to reach her? They would all need to grab on at the same moment…and what about Albus? What if…?

Lucius Malfoy clapped three times, and all of the sudden, the entire back wall was ignited in red flames. The room became aglow with light, and the men sitting at the table were forced to move due to the excessive heat and danger of burning. On the wall was a distinct symbol shown by the crevices in the structure and multiple shades of the flame. It was a large, ferocious-looking serpent, coiled around an outstretched hand. _So oddly familiar,_ Scorpius thought, _but also so incredibly terrifying all the same._

"Do you like it?" Lucius Malfoy asked pleasantly, the flame dancing in his eyes. "It was, of course, inspired by that of the Death Eaters, but with a more refined touch, don't you think?"

He turned back towards his grandson and began his proposition, "I pity you, young Scorpius – living with your traitor-of-a-father for all of these years – but I'm a forgiving man, and I'm willing to offer you a chance."

More fires ignited along the sides of the entire room, revealing the other three walls of the large room. They were almost cave-like, with jugged rocks covered in strange paintings. Looking closer, Rose realized that they weren't simple paintings at all – they were handprints. Red handprints scattering all three walls, almost like burning embers reflected by the flames.

"Pledge your allegiance to our organization now and take your place with me, _or –"_ he said "– you can join your friends." At the strange look on his grandson's face, he added, "Now, Scorpius, I hate to see a Malfoy descendant wasting his full potential on such trivial things when you _could_ be standing beside me, purifying our race for generations to come."

Scorpius looked shell-shocked. "I – I don't know –"

"Oh, _come now,_ Scorpius!" Lucius scoffed. "As much as you may try to hide it, as much as you may try to cover it up with your red and gold, _you are a Malfoy._ You can run away from it, but you can't hide from it. So _join me_ and stop running."

He walked over to the wooden table and picked up a large glass bowl of strange, red liquid. Taking it in his arms, he walked back towards Scorpius and said, "This is Arigonian Trust Serum. Those who use it are bound for life. Think of it as…an Unbreakable Vow. Liquidized." There were a few distant chuckles, and the man continued, "You have once chance, Scorpius. Take my advice and don't waste it."

Swallowing, Scorpius stared up at the handprints – hundreds of people who had pledged their lives to the "cause" and spent their days in a dark room, planning for the day when they could sculpt a new society, only for those whom they considered elite. As much as he tried to ignore it, it was the summary of his family's entire legacy. His father had always done his best to steer him away from that legacy – to try to undo the seams that had once bound them. And Scorpius wasn't about to throw all of that away.

He was a Malfoy. But he wasn't his grandfather.

His eyes met Rose's. He wished he could tell her that he knew what he was doing, that she should trust him. But somehow…he knew that she would. Winking at her, he nodded decisively. She sent him a confused look back, raising her eyebrows, but he could only stare back. It was a matter or trust. And if he had to trust anyone, he would pick her.

"I'll do it," he told his grandfather finally.

Grinning, Lucius said coolly, "That's my boy. Here." He extended the bowl towards him, and Scorpius knew –

He had to act _now._

Scorpius's hand shot upwards, knocking the bowl out his grandfather's hands, the serum spilling all over his linen clothes. Lucius cried out, the liquid burning his skin at the touch. Two hooded men raced onto the stage, grabbing Scorpius by the shoulders. Numerous attendees and members alike raced onto the stage to help their leader, including the guards holding onto Rose and Al.

"Rose – the portkey!" he cried as he was pulled to the ground. "Get out of here!"

With her momentary freedom, Rose grabbed Al by the hand and called to him, "What about you?!"

" _Get out of here, Rose!"_ he shouted once more.

"I'm not going to –!"

Al's voice was small and calm compared to the shouting and screaming that surrounded them. "Rose. We need to go."

Squeezing his cousin's hand tightly, he pulled her away from the scene, racing down the center aisle and out the golden doors. The doors slammed behind them with a loud _thud,_ and their world suddenly became extremely quiet. Pointing his wand to the door, Al muttered, " _Colloportus,"_ and the doors sealed shut. Wordlessly, Rose rushed over to the large portrait of Lucius Malfoy, and lifting it off of its hook, threw it to the ground. The frame broke in two, leaving the pale man on the ground, his cold eyes staring up at the ceiling.

Al looked over at her, but Rose couldn't face him. Fuming, fists clenched, Rose took a shuddering breath and wiped away at the burning tears that were forming in her eyes.

"Rose," Al tried, but his cousin only held up her hand, stopping him.

"You shouldn't have come, Al. You. Never. Should've. Come." Her voice quiet and bitter, broken and commanding, all at the same time.

Al only stood there, his hands in his pockets, staring at the marble floor. "We need to get out of here."

"I mean – what were you _thinking?"_ she continued, fiery tears tumbling down her cheeks. "Showing up here? Betraying your family – betraying _me?_ Everything our family's ever done? Every sacrifice? Fred? Tonks? Remus? You're just going to betray them _all?"_ She shook her head. "Scorpius and I came here for a reason, Al. We were trying to help. But _you –_ you're just a lying –"

At that moment, Al took out a long, peach-colored string attached to the inside of his sweater sleeve and handed it to his cousin.

Rose was silent for a moment, not believing what she was seeing.

"This is a long-distance extendable ear."

Al nodded.

"You were recording the whole thing."

Nodding once more, Al told her, "It's connected to an extendable record in my dorm."

He continued, "I was _hoping_ to get the whole thing on record and turn it in to Professor McGonagall, but –" He gave her a half-hearted smile. " – apparently, I wasn't the only spy there."

Rose was at a loss for words. "Al – I'm so – I really never should've –"

"It's okay. I get it."

The two cousins stood there quietly for a moment, a silent apology passing between the two.

"This never should've happened," Rose muttered, pacing back and forth. "If we would've told Scorpius about Lucius escaping – maybe we would've been more prepared, maybe we wouldn't even – I just don't know. I don't know." She put her face in her hands. "We never should've come. That was our first mistake."

Before Al could reply, there was suddenly a loud banging at the door, followed by the shouting of angry voices.

"Grab the portkey and let's get out of here!" Albus told Rose, who scrambled to get a hold of the watch in her pocket.

Rose grabbed hold of Albus's hand, went to touch the face of the clock – but stopped. Looking at her cousin, she asked hopelessly, "What about Scorpius? We can't just leave him here!"

With apologetic eyes, Al whispered in reply, "Rosie, there's nothing we can do for him now. We need to go."

" _Reducto!"_

Just as the doors burst into splinters, Rose touched the surface of the pocket watch, her hand squeezing Al's, and her world became dark once more.

When she finally came to the familiar surroundings of the headmistress's office, she and Al were met with cries of worry and immediate care. But Rose wouldn't let anyone come near her. She stood in the center of the room, and turned to Draco Malfoy.

" _I'm so sorry,"_ she told the man, her voice cracking.

The room was quiet.

"They got him," she said, quiet terror setting in. "They got Scorpius."

Far too quiet.


	22. Changes of a Changed Man

**_–_** **THE FOLLOWING PASSAGE IS AN EXCERPT FROM** ** _THE DAILY PROPHET'S_** **SEPTEMBER 8** **TH** **ISSUE, WRITTEN BY RITA SKEETER** ** _–_**

 _Kingsley Shacklebolt. Ex-Auror…member of the Order of the Phoenix…Minister of Magic…_

… _CHILD-MURDERER?_

 _For the first time, new information has been released about the mysterious whereabouts of the Minister this Sunday evening. The pieces of the puzzle, when put together, form a gruesome, horrifying depiction of the true nature of our "beloved" leader._

 _Emerging a hero from the Second Wizarding War, Kingsley Shacklebolt comfortably took a seat upon the highest political honor in our world. The seas were calm…for a matter of months. The reformations he deemed "necessary" took millions, creating a significant dent in our economy. His explanations for the changes were quick, to the point, and devoid of any real emotion._

 _Then came the second blow. A government weakened by war, Kingsley took advantage of its current state by dropping the precautionary and logical requirements of allegiance of Aurors, our supposed protectors, and filled the entire squad with his own close friends and allies. His cover-up? "Proof of admittance on the battlefield." The likely truth? Bought support to carry him through the scandal years in the making. Though honorable, many couldn't help but wonder, "Where's the truth?"_

 _Now, after nineteen years of a seemingly peaceful reign, his true intentions have come into light. Upon hearing of the threat of an anti-political, purist-obsessed group called "Freed Blood", Kingsley – our so-called "brilliant" leader – decided that the only option was to send in spies._

 _And not just any spies…but children._

 _And not just any children…but first years._

 _And not just any first years…but Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy, whose famed parentage has made them elites among their classmates._

 _Naïve and wanting to prove themselves, the two Hogwarts students leaped at the challenge, per the whole-hearted agreement of their careless headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, in the fashion of her predecessor, the controversial Albus Dumbledore. Their parents, close allies who continually feed to his power and place the Minister in a dim, but positive, light, also agreed to risk their children's lives._

 _Under the guard of only two of the Auror squad, both Kingsley's cheated fill-ins following the war, the first years were unknowing transported into the twisted world of underground socio-economic gangs._

 _Two children left…two returned._

 _But Scorpius Malfoy was nowhere to be found._

 _Rose Weasley, traumatized by the horrifying circumstances she had been put under, had arrived instead with her cousin and son of the great Harry Potter, Albus Severus. (Namesakes purposefully chosen. Interesting, in my opinion, given his father's role in both scandals…)_

 _And what was the Savior's response to hearing of his son's attendance to a Death Eater-enthusiast cult meeting?_

 _"_ _Although my son made a brash decision…" And after hopelessly defending his child's "secretive" but "brilliant" actions to dangerously go undercover, claimed, "Scorpius Malfoy's disappearance is a completely unintentional tragedy. These children's well-being was never purposefully put at stake. I can assure you that this department is doing everything we can to find him, and those guilty will suffer the consequences."_

 _A lot of talk for a man whose job is at stake. Harry Potter's approval of both the plan and choice of Aurors is extremely questionable of bribery and – dare I say it – sanity. Following the incident, he took his son home for "recovery from a horrible experience" and later to the Ministry for questioning. The child should be returning to school by the end of the week, and then it is his father's turn to be thrown into hot water._

 _As for Rose Weasley, she too was taken home and for questioning, but returned to school only two days later for a "necessary" school commitment…Quidditch. Weasley is Seeker for the Gryffindor team, and conveniently chose sport over the devastating loss of a close friend. (SEE PAGE 3A – THE BLOSSOMING YET FORBIDDEN ROMANCE OF MALFOY AND WEASLEY!)_

 _Selfishness…or is there a darker reason?_

 _The Minister has refused to comment, shutting himself away with only his most trusted advisors, as they all desperately try to worm their way out of political suicide. Among this advisory board is none other than the missing boy's father…the previous Death Eater…Draco Malfoy._

 _Convenient, isn't it, that his son's disappearance should occur so shortly after the escape of his infamous grandfather, Lucius Malfoy? Coincidence?_

 _I think not._

 _Though the information surrounding the secret rally has not officially been released, this reporter's done some snooping and unraveled a terrible piece of fact –_

 _Lucius Malfoy, right-hand man to You-Know-Who, is now leader of Freed Blood, and incidentally, his grandson's kidnapper._

 _"_ _I do not blame the Minister in any way, but my own self," claims Draco, his eyes darkened by the amount of skeletons in the Malfoy closet._

 _But how deep does this conspiracy go? Are the Malfoys returning to old ways and simply covering for their escaped patriarch? What of Potter and Weasley's corrupted Auror department?_

 _So many questions needed answering, and yet, so little time until the Minister's time runs out._

 _~ Rita Skeeter_

0o0o0

A flicker of golden light above the goal post – diving, diving, Ravenclaw Seeker reaches out – stops her just in time – shoved aside – diving, soaring, flying, barely missing it – another point for Ravenclaw, as the Quaffle soars in through the goal post, much to Matilda's dismay – reaching, reaching –

 _Don't think of Scorpius._

"Hey, Wood!" Rose called to the short brunette defending the goal post. "Certainly living up to your _replacement_ expectations, huh?"

The brunette scoffed. "We're in a lull, so what? I'm still twice as good as your little Malfoy would've been."

 _Don't think of Scorpius._

Another shimmer of light – a flutter of wings – it's right beside her ear! Reacts a second too late – soaring upwards, higher and higher – Ravenclaw notices as well, follows in suit – she's fast, but not fast enough – Rose feels the surging of the wind, propelling her higher and higher, up and up, nearly touching the Snitch with her fingertips –

And misses it.

"Hey, Weasley!" shouted Matilda haughtily. "Sure _you_ don't have a replacement?"

"LADIES, WE CAN CHIT-CHAT LATER!" shouted James, zooming by, bat in hand. "RAVENCLAW IS TWENTY POINTS UP!"

 _Don't think of Scorpius._

A gleam of golden speeding below – Ravenclaw sees it as well but is too far on the other end of the field to get to it in time – Rose nose-dives downward – faster and faster – until –

 _Scorpius, I'm so sorry._

" _ROSE WEASLEY HAS CAUGHT THE GOLDEN SNITCH!"_

There was a sea of fans racing onto the field, a hug from her parents, and soon enough, Rose Weasley found herself in the quiet of the Gryffindor locker room. She had quickly excused herself from the after-party and her teammates immediately backed off. They had done that a lot lately – nearly a week had gone by and there was still no sign of Scorpius. Rose was often to herself – honestly, she _preferred_ to be by herself – and Al was still at home, dealing with questioning. Since he wasn't an official part of the spies, his hearings were even more excruciating, filled to the brim with Ministry officials that were convinced it was a case of "Potter-Turned-Death-Eater." But with the recordings from the extendable ear and her mother's assistance, the mood was increasingly positive, and he would return to school soon.

When her questioning had come around, Rose's one-track mind was set on one thing – wrapping up with pointless Ministry crap and finding her best friend. But there was only so much she could do.

Without Al and Scorp, life at Hogwarts was lonely and…well…off. There was a sense of distrust between her and her teammates; there were pitied glances from classmates, and even worse, the excused homework from professors. But Rose would have none of that. She threw herself into her studies, completing double the requirements and everything she needed to catch up. Homework was her companion, for the time being, and the only professors who seemed to understand were McGonagall and Uncle Neville. They never used Scorpius's absence and her role in it as an excuse or – heck – even punishment. It was simply as though it had never happened.

And that's what Rose had to do – at least until Albus came back. Continue on. Try not to think about. At least for now.

Every once in a while, Rose's determination would slip and Scorpius's eyes would come to mind, his hoarse voice calling, " _Get out of here!"_

He had sacrificed himself for them and what had they done in return? Kept secrets. Even worse, secrets that could've saved his life.

But she would find him. Rose Weasley was going to find him. No matter what it cost.

James Potter, sweating and smiling like a wild man, ran in through the doorway.

" _Heeyyyy,_ Party-Pooper! You're really missing out – Finnigan just chugged down an entire _case_ of butterbeer! Fred and I are placing bets on when he'll –" His smile disappeared, finally noticing the state of the girl in front of him. " – are you – are you _crying?"_

"No." Rose quickly wiped her nose with the back of her Quidditch uniform sleeve and sniffed, trying to avoid her cousin's gaze. No, of course she wasn't crying. Not in front of James. Anyone but James.

Two muscular arms suddenly wrapped around her, her cousin pulling her tightly into a hug. A little caught off-guard, Rose resisted, hesitant, but soon felt her guard slipping and cried silently into his sweaty shoulder.

"I know," was all he said, and it was all he needed to.

0o0o0

 _One month later._

"I knew I'd find you here. You never could resist twisted sentiment."

The Department of Mysteries was cold – bitterly so – and mysteriously tranquil, to the point where Draco Malfoy felt himself tremble periodically, for no reason beside his own imagination.

The silver-haired wizard stepped out of the shadows and extended his arms like greeting an old friend. "Draco! It's been so long. Too long, in fact. I'd like to say that you haven't changed a bit, but you know how I feel about lies."

Draco stared down the man that once was his father. "Ironic, isn't it?" he asked sarcastically. He could feel his cool slipping at an alarming rate – the calm façade he usually lived by, slowly dripping away to reveal the harshness he had come to know as a child.

Lucius politely grinned, like a politician discussing a scandal, and paced around the room, admiring what he saw. "Ah, memories…and what a memory this was. Who would've thought a band of fifth years would be so foolish as to take on a pack of Death Eaters…of course, the situation would have been immediately terminated if it hadn't been for their beloved Order. And to think – if I could've just held onto that prophecy –" He closed his eyes, his hand shaking angrily at the memory. When the moment had passed, he took a breath and continued, "Well, the past is past. You must forgive me – old men often revisit what was."

"How did you even get here?"

"Oh, Draco, you underestimate me," Lucius toyed. "May I remind you that I am the second-ever prisoner to escape Azkaban? On record, of course – I have no doubt there have been more. Also, despite my incarceration, I still have friends in high places. Those who are sympathetic to our cause."

Draco scoffed, disgust in his eyes. "Your _cause?_ Your so-called _cause_ is nothing more than an echo of times passed, an old man's fading memory."

His father stood for a moment, examining his son.

"They've really changed you, haven't they?" he asked, his voice dropping. "But change is one thing. _Acceptance –_ now – that's something else entirely."

"You know why I'm here," Draco said, not wanting to entertain him further. "I need not explain. But I do have one question – I've spent the past month trying to track you down, and you choose here and now to show yourself…why?"

The old man chuckled. "Someone in your position – so determined, so desperate – is merely a plaything. I had to keep the fish on the hook. Letting it loose takes the fun."

"Oh, the _fun,_ huh? You want the _fun?"_ Draco could no longer keep his emotions in line. "My _son_ has been taken hostage by your little _cause,_ and if he is not returned unharmed, I swear that I will spend every waking moment making your life a living hell."

"Come now, Draco, there's no need for drastic measures."

Draco pointed squarely at his father, a coldness in his eyes challenging that of the Ice Age. "You planned this. You meant for this to happen all along, didn't you?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You _meant_ for Scorpius to be taken! By him going missing, you _knew_ that Kingsley would get the axe for this. You were trying to take the Minister down by the abduction of a _child_. You're despicable," he spat.

Lucius only sighed and raised his eyebrows. "Genius, yes. But the plan? I'm afraid not. You see, I had gotten a tip about Kingsley's little idea, and I was quite prepared to take – just as an example – one of the Potters, maybe that Weasley girl. But was I expecting the Minister to trust my own grandson? A Malfoy?" He laughed. "I'm afraid not. But Scorpius chose his path, and I had no choice."

"So you regret it? Taking one of your own?"

"Oh, Draco – all these underestimates and overestimates…it really says something about your character."

"My character is the least of my problems."

"I can see that."

"Where is he?"

"Your boy is safe – alive and well," the man reassured him, waving it off. "As much as you may try to deny it, we are flesh and blood, after all."

"What are you doing to him?"

"You talk as if I'm holding the poor child at gunpoint! He is being treated with the finest care."

"By whose standards? Yours?"

"Your son was a spy. He had to be detained, tried, and punished accordingly. However, I can assure you that we are fixing any and all damage done to the boy."

"Damage – again – _by whose standards?"_

"Your son is alive. There. We are done here," said Lucius brashly. He turned to leave.

"No! We are not! We are most certainly not!" Draco shouted, blocking him in his path. "You are going to hand my son over to me. Unscathed. If there is one bruise on his body, I will personally see to it that you are found, tortured, and murdered in the most brutal form imaginable. He's my son, and I am willing to betray every moral I hold dear for his life."

There was a pause. Finally, a cruel smile grew upon his father's lips.

"You have no idea how glad I am to hear that," he said calmly. "Because that's exactly the extent of what you're going to do."

Draco gave him a strange look – a mix between fear and disgust.

"Give me my son back."

"In good time, in good time," Lucius said calmly, "but I'm going to need a few things from you first."

"What _kinds_ of things?"

Lucius held up his hands defensively. "Business is business, my son."

"Don't call me that."

"Ah. I see. That's how things are."

"That's how they've always been."

"You're wrong there," the man pointed out. "Once upon a time…"

"…but not now. Not now, not ever again."

Lucius – smiling whilst glaring – reached into the linen pocket of his coat and pulled out a porcelain white card. The reflection of the light made the card shimmer, and Draco took it from his father as if it were poison. It would have been extremely terrifying…if it hadn't been blank.

Draco asked slowly, "Where is the…?"

"Your needed information will only appear once you have completed what I require of you," Lucius told him. "And I think you know what that is."

Draco's eyes filled with knowing fear as his father's words sank in. Risks are a necessary thing, especially in exchange for something you love. And Draco loved no one more than his son. He would've killed the man before him if that little boy's life wasn't in his cruel, powerful hands. Draco Malfoy was a changed man – but that's just the thing. A horrible habit of "changed men?" They _change._

Finally, Draco spoke. "But…ransom, really? I thought you were above that."

"There are many things I've learned throughout my life – the truth surrounding power, prestige, loss, and those who rule you," his father explained. "Cowardice, I've found, never fails. The only thing that suffers is pride."

"And what about _your_ pride?"

Just as he turned to leave, Lucius turned momentarily and whispered, " _My_ pride?" He scoffed. "I lost that a long time ago."

And the man left, leaving Draco Malfoy with no choice but to do the unspeakable.


	23. The Lion's Den

Scorpius Malfoy was asleep for a long, long time.

His slumber was scattered with fragments of dreams – in fact, he wouldn't even call them dreams – more like flashes of memories, bits of his childhood, a glance, a hug, a hand shake, a single nod, and then…darkness once more. He often saw Rose and Al, but never for long, as their faces were quickly replaced by another remembering of some kind.

He saw the nervous smile on Rose's face when she asked if they could sit in his compartment.

He saw Al's sickly green expression as the Sorting Hat placed him in Slytherin.

He saw Matilda Wood's angry glare when he told her off.

He saw James's smirk as he beat Matilda in Quidditch tryouts.

Then he saw his father's proud smile as he told him that he wanted to help.

 _"_ _Rose, get out of here!"_ Then –

Nothing.

It was as if he was in a comatose state of some kind. His mind was present…and yet…it wasn't. It wandered through long corridors of forgotten memories, looking for something, _anything,_ that might offer an explanation for what was going on.

Lucius.

His grandfather.

Two strong arms pulling him to the ground.

Rose's worried expression.

Al's arm guiding her away from the scene.

His grandfather's sickening grin.

Then – nothing.

"He's regaining consciousness."

 _Regaining consciousness? When had I lost it?_

"Should we pull him out? Or keep him in the coma?"

 _Coma? No, no…I was only sleeping. Just…dreaming…_

"He was bound to come out of it eventually. Pull him out."

 _I'd much rather keep dreaming, if you don't mind. Please and thank you._

"Someone get Master Lucius down here. He needs to be here when the kid wakes up, his orders."

 _No. I don't want to see him. What if I refuse? What if I just keep my eyes closed…?_

Scorpius's eyes flew open to see a dark room, and the voices stopped. The lighting – if any – was extremely dim, and he could only pin-point a few objects.

He was sitting up in a hospital bed of some kind, and beside him was a simple, wooden chair. The people he had heard before were nowhere to be found. Maybe they were figments of his imagination? Maybe it was a medically-induced hallucination?

But it had been so real…

"Ah, you're awake."

Scorpius whipped his around to the other side of his bed, where his grandfather stood waiting, wearing a perfectly ironed black suit, cane in hand.

"Well, I for one am glad. We have much to discuss," he told Scorpius, taking a seat in the wooden chair. As he eased into it, he cursed under his breath, clearly in great discomfort. "Never become an old man, Scorpius," he warned. "Nothing ever works like it used to."

"Where's Rose? Albus?" Scorpius asked, his eyes churning with anger.

Lucius stared his grandson dead in the eyes. "They got away."

He lot out a sigh of relief.

"You could've as well, if you hadn't chosen stupidity over heroism," he scolded. "It's something I cannot simply understand…I offered you a place among our highest rankings – my apprentice, so to speak. And yet he would rather return to that school of yours and memorize the properties of dragon's blood."

"I chose saving the people that mattered over joining the people that didn't," Scorpius said in a tired, but serious tone, not breaking his grandfather's gaze. "Why would I have any regrets about that?"

Lucius answered without hesitation. "You're a Malfoy. My grandson. We have a code."

"Well, clearly this code of yours has long since expired."

" _Clearly."_

"I'm not afraid of you, you know. Not anymore. You're just a scared, old man, grappling onto whatever power he has left."

Lucius Malfoy let out a dry chuckle. "That may be true, little Scorpius. But you're wrong about one thing."

Scorpius swallowed hard, trying to keep hold of whatever courage he had left. "And what is that?" he asked daringly.

Reaching into his suit pocket, Lucius pulled out a small, clear bottle containing darkened liquid. Scorpius didn't know exactly what it was, but the very sight of it gave him a sense of terrible dread. Little did her know, Lucius had gone through much trouble to acquire it, even a small sample. During his time with the Dark Lord, many of his most trusted advisors were allowed glimpses to his private stock of self-concocted poisons and potions of unspeakable horrors. This one in particular was one the Dark Lord had prided himself in the most. In fact, as Lucius had learned following the War, this bottle's very contents had contributed to the death of one of the greatest wizards of all time. But a small dose such was not enough to be fatal…but it was enough to do the trick.

"You _should_ be afraid, little Scorpius," he said wickedly. " _Especially_ of me."

Scorpius's screams rang throughout the entire room for the entirety of the night. He tried to picture his father's smile, Rose's face, Al's eyes – but each time he tried, they were a little more out of reach.

0o0o0

"Rosie – long time, no see."

"Oh, don't act so coy. I know you missed me."

Rose stood at the doorway of her cousin's bedroom, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her jacket, a small grin on her freckled face. Today, the Ministry would be questioning the two of them together in order to check the accuracy of their stories. It was a gloomy Saturday – the sky overcast, with the impending rain hanging over them like a threat of worse things to come.

It took all Rose had to keep from scolding her cousin on the state of his room. Al's was next door to James's on the second floor, which surprisingly, was _significantly_ cleaner than this. Al's bedsheets were sprawled out everywhere, half hanging off his bed from another restless night. The floor was littered with Muggle comics, which Rose had gotten him into from her time at school, and had quickly turned into an obsession. He had a large desk on one side of the room, which was covered with sketches of nearly anything you could think of – self-portraits, sketches of family members, trees, flowers, superheroes. Rose's favorite was one he had done of her two years ago – they had been at another one of the Weasley reunions, a huge picnic at the Burrow. They were bored out of their minds when Al had offered to sketch her. Curious to analyze his formerly "private" hobby, Rose agreed, and was blown away by what she saw. Al had…serious talent, she had to admit. But she never openly discussed it with anyone in the family…Al's drawings were private to him, like precious glimpses into his inner thoughts. Of course, his immediate family knew _of_ them, but Rose was the only person he truly entrusted them to.

Al himself was a mess – his black hair even more askew than usual, tired bags under his eyes, and his shirt inside out. (Rose would have to point that out later, but it wasn't the time.) Nevertheless, he smiled at his cousin warmly, glad to see a familiar face besides his parents.

"You're a mess," Rose admitted, walking over and taking a seat beside him on his bed.

Al laughed. "Thanks, I know."

"When are you coming back to school? It's so awkward, Al, everyone staring, but not wanting to ask…"

Sighing, Al said, "Dad wants me to hang low until the hearings finish and he gets everything in order. So maybe next week." Rose grumbled. "I'm sure it's not _that_ bad. You could always hang out with your old friend, Matilda."

Rose glared at him. "Not funny."

"Sorry."

"So…how've you been?" Rose asked, fingering her shoelaces.

Al just looked at her with two, big, pitiful green eyes.

"Not the best question to ask, I guess," she admitted. "Have they been giving you a hard time?"

"Not really – when you're dad's… _you know…_ they don't press too harshly. And it seems like they believe me anyway, especially because I had the record to show for it."

Rose shook her head. "That was a risky move, Al," she told him sincerely.

"I had an opportunity to go in unsuspected," Al explained, almost frantic to get his story in order. "And you and Scor were acting…weird. With everything going on, I guess I thought –"

"Thought what?"

Al stopped, shaking his head. "It's stupid."

"I bet it's not."

"No, Rosie, it is the _epitome_ of stupid."

"Al, you've done _stupid_ before."

"Then this is worse."

"Then tell me already."

Al sat back, biting his lip. He knew that he could tell Rose anything, and the guilt from what had gone on in the past week was getting to him. More than anything, he wanted a fresh start. He wanted to go back to that stool, try on that Hat again, and see what had changed. But that, of course, was impossible. Maybe the Hat was right. Maybe it was time to own up to who he truly was – not brave and chivalrous, but cunning, resourceful. And who really has time for chivalry, anyway?

Rose just stared at her cousin, watching his eyes move as his thought progress progressed. She knew him inside and out, and yet, since the start of the school year, he was slowly becoming a stranger. She had to stop it before the old Albus Severus was lost forever.

"That you had something to prove," Rose said, reading his mind. "You had let everyone down after the Sorting, and you wanted to play hero."

Al's green eyes met hers. "Stupid?"

"Oh, the _epitome_ of stupid," she assured him with a small smile. Al let out a short laugh. "You could've told me, you know. We could've actually _talked_ about it instead of you going all James Bond on me."

"Rosie…" Al's voice trailed off. He readjusted himself on the bed, hugging his knees. "I…I just wanted to help."

Rose stared at her cousin.

Her cousin stared back.

And at that collision of stares, Rose Weasley had a eureka moment.

"Hold out your hand."

" _Why –?"_

Without another word, Rose Weasley grabbed her cousin's sleeve and held it steady, locking it with her own. Grabbing her wand with the other hand, she aimed it towards the captive cousin.

"Unbreakable Vow."

"Rose – what the –?"

"Oh, _calm down!_ Not a real one! Just – just a promise."

"Well, you could've just said that instead of scaring the crap out of me –"

With all seriousness in her eyes, Rose stared her cousin down. "Albus Severus Potter," she addressed him clearly.

Playing along, Al rebounded, "Rose Ginevra Weasley."

"You need to promise me that from here on out, we're going to tell each other everything," Rose swore, shaking her head in agreement to her own words. "No more secrets."

Albus examined her for a moment, until finally, a crooked smile broke out on his face. "Who likes secrets, anyway?" he asked, grinning.

Rose found herself grinning back, the flush returning to her cheeks after a month of loneliness and worry.

"No more secrets between us," she continued. "We confide in each other, lean on each other, and trust in each other. Like old times – before all this Slytherin crap. Deal?"

"Deal."

"…"

"…"

"So, if this isn't a real Unbreakable Vow, what happens if one of us breaks it?"

Rose waved him off. "Please. We don't need a magical vow…I'll just find you and kill you myself."

"The sad part is, I believe it."

"Thank you."

"You are a strange one, Rose Weasley," Al told her, green eyes glistening. "The best Seeker on the field and the biggest nerd in class."

"That about sums it up," Rose commented. Hearing her best friend pick on her again was like a breath of fresh air. A sad smile growing on her freckled face, the red-head told her cousin earnestly, "I missed you."

"Missed you, too," Al said, nudging her with his shoulder. Rose tried to laugh – like she would've, had it been two months ago – but found the sound too empty, hollow even.

There was a long pause.

"Crazy year, huh?" Al asked quietly, his smile diminishing. He folded his hands and placed them neatly in his lap, staring down at them.

Rose blew a fiery stray curl out of her face. "That's one way to put it," she muttered to herself, lost in thought.

It was already November into her first year at Hogwarts, and Rose had upheld her two primary goals for school – Quidditch and high marks in all classes. But besides that, everything else was entirely different. Her time at Hogwarts so far seemed to be a line-up of excruciating plot twists and surprises. First, it was Scorpius. The blonde boy had somehow torn down any preconceptions she had of him within the first few moments of their meeting. Then, the Sorting. Rather than carve her own path to greatness, she had been thrown into the Gryffindor Bin of Weasleys, Albus had been locked away in the far reaches of Slytherin-dom, and Scorpius – _God,_ there he went again with proving people wrong – had landed in the den of the lion. The next twists and turns came so quickly that Rose found herself constantly thinking and rethinking about even the smallest detail. Becoming Seeker. Scorpius getting on the team. The search for the spy. Keeping Lucius's breaking out of prison from her best friend. Being recruited for Kingsley's spy plan. Hiding it from Al. The party. That night…

Losing Scorpius.

Rose couldn't bear glossing over the topic any longer. Not speaking about something that needed to be spoke of…it wasn't a very Rose-Weasley-thing to do. Swallowing, she began, "What happened…that night…"

"We'll find him," Al said immediately, reading her thoughts. "No matter what happens, we're going to find him, I promise."

"Aren't you the one always saying that you shouldn't make promises you can't keep?" Rose snapped. She didn't mean to fight Al, but as far as empty promises go, the past month had been full of them. There wasn't any time left for vows and promises and oaths; she was ready for action, or at least for someone to walk up and say, _I have a plan!_ Rose Weasley was tired of the awkward glances and unsaid conversations. She was tired of trying to bury herself in schoolwork, to the point where breathing wasn't even an option. But most of all, she was tired of not having her best friends by her side.

Al knew that she had him there. So he offered her the best excuse he possibly could. "Desperate times call for desperate sayings," he said without even a hint of a grin. "I thought it was better to have a hope of good things to come than a looming cloud of bad."

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Harry Potter pushed open the door, wearing a simple collared shirt and dress pants. The worry was evident in his brows and eyes, though he attempted a small, encouraging smile. His entire face was a hodge-podge of emotions. Rose couldn't blame him.

"They're ready for you downstairs," he told the two kids.

The cousins nodded to each other, a silent hug passing between them. Rose got up from the bed, Al trailing right behind her. They walked down the stairs slowly and hesitantly, as if one misstep and they would fall into a pit of lava. But what lay in the living room scared them even more. Three men, all clad in official-looking Auror robes, sat on the sofa, with Rose's father pacing nervously behind them. When they arrived at the bottom step, Harry joined his best friend and colleague behind the couch, leaving Rose and Al to fend on their own.

"Hello," Rose said quietly to the men, hoping to melt some of the ice or at least start the questioning on a good foot. None of the men smiled or said anything in reply. Feeling helpless at her situation, Rose melted into a chair beside Al, facing the three men.

The man sitting in the middle – a big, brawny-looking type – cleared his throat and made eye contact with the two students. "I am Agent Fiddilt from senior board of Aurors. I will be conducting your questioning today. These are my colleagues – Agent Hackings and Agent Hopscloth."

The two other men nodded in greeting.

"To start off," Fiddilt said, continuing, "would you please recount the night of the rally to the best of your memory?"

Rose and Albus inwardly groaned. They had told the story to lots of agents during lots of questionings over the past month, to the point where the words naturally found their way to tell the tale without seemingly any conscious assistance. This part of the final hearing was to see if Al's and Rose's recounts aligned. It wasn't that they were being convicted of a crime or anything of the sort, but this step was necessary if the Auror department was to use their information during the investigation. It was grueling, but important, as Ron and Harry had reminded their children each time they complained about the process.

The entire story took twenty minutes, with Rose and Al adding details and clarifying points in each other's recounts, and Agent Fiddilt constantly asking them to retrieve their steps and repeat important parts. By the time they were done, the entire room seemed relieved that it had gone so well. A few more questions were thrown at the two – mostly about McGonagall's recruitment and the Aurors put in charge of them – and then they were done. Or so they thought.

` "Thank you for your time," Agent Fiddilt told them, standing up. His colleagues did the same. "We will send the evaluation by owl tomorrow and begin launching the full investigation."

Rose cleared her throat, the agent's eyes drifting down to hers. "Excuse me, but what is the condition of the missing person's investigation for Scorpius Malfoy?" she asked daringly.

Fiddilt stiffened, having not expected any further questions, especially from one of the eleven year-old witnesses.

Al looked up at the man inquisitively, awaiting his reply. Ron and Harry held their breaths.

"Our best men are on the case," was all he said, and he turned to go.

But Rose couldn't leave it. How could she?

"The same best men who were in charge of overseeing Kingsley's little espionage?" Rose snapped back at him, the taste of bitter anger on her tongue.

" _Rose,"_ Al warned.

Fiddilt's fists clenched. "Now, see here, young lady –!"

As luck would have it, their battle of words was interrupted by Agent Hopscloth's rapid entrance back inside the home. He turned to his colleague and said in a low voice, "Sir, he's here."

Fiddilt glared at the girl but did his best to swallow his anger and explain. "As I was trying to say, thank you for your time, and we are nearly done with the questioning."

" _Nearly?"_ Al echoed, confused.

Fiddilt nodded. "As it seems, you two are not the only eye witnesses to the rally and subsequent abduction. Another…surprising…source has recently come to light."

"What _source –?"_

His sentence was interrupted by the entrance of greasy hair, leather robes, and a smile sly enough to win a thousand poker games.

On either side of the teenager was a guard, though he himself was not in any restraints. It was as if the law enforcement that had accepted his help was still unsure whether to trust him or deny him.

Rose jutted a finger out at him, a disgusted, furious expression on her face. "What is _he_ doing here?!"

Andrew Smelting only crossed his arms and stared the newbie down. "Well, it's nice to see you, too."


	24. Author's Note 6

**Hi, everyone! First off, I wanted to apologize for the gap in updates before Chapter 18...I was out of town, and it was really difficult to access a computer. But I'm back! :P**

 **We're nearing 50 followers! EEEEEEEEKKKK! XD I'm so happy to see so many people enjoying this story - it's so much fun to write. And especially that it's my first fic makes it all the more exciting.**

 **All of the support, all of the comments, and all of the messages mean a lot. (HINT HINT: the more reviews, the more I'll be encouraged to write... :3)**

 **So without further ado - replies to reviews!**

NikkiRiddle - **As one of my favorite time lords would say, "Spoilers!" (And yes, River Song isn't technically blah, blah, blah...forget technicalities and give me credit for the reference :P) As for how "big" this whole thing is going to go...we'll just have to see. As it is only their first year, and I don't think their greatest adventure should be over with within the first year, I plan on taking the route the actually books did, in that their first year is a taste of what the future adventures will be like and as they grow and mature, so will the threat. But that doesn't mean I plan on letting them off easily because they're only "baby first years"...I think you can already tell that the trio is biting off more than they can chew for their age, much like their parents. But I'm glad that you're enjoying the mysteries...and yes, I think I do get what you mean by "confusing but makes perfect sense", and I'm proud of it :) And as for Andrew...I wouldn't be surprised if the kid had more up his sleeve...Thanks again for all of your comments!**

ProcrastinatingRavenclaw001 - **When I decided to write a fanfiction, I didn't think an innocent pack of gum would get hurt! XD I'm so glad that your enjoying the story - didn't mean to torture you though, but we writers love our cliffhangers ;) As for Draco's reaction, we should be getting to more of that soon. A father does unspeakable things if it means the safety of his child...so you'll just have to find out!**

.940436 - **Amen to that XD**

creampuffs-and-fluff - **Oh my God thank you! That was my entire purpose for writing this story - that we Potterheads could feel more connected with the second gen. Please continue to read and review - things are just getting interesting!**

inlovewithguysinbooks - **Thank you so much! Though I had to deliberate on where to put Scorpius, as I could see him in both Slytherin and Gryffindor, I decided to plop poor Al in Slytherin because I really felt that this was a character who needed to find himself. And what a better place to do so than the last possible House he would want to be in? Their first year will mainly be focused on the characters adjusting to their new placements and looking past House pride to find out who they truly are...but I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far!**

Son of Whitebeard - **Nope. Sadly, it has not.**

hisuichanxx - **OMG! What a great idea! I'll see if I can work it into the story somehow...hmmm...but I'm glad you like the Rita Skeeter article! It was probably the most fun I've ever had writing fanfic :P God, she's so psychotic...**

Seahorse8 - **Thank you so much! More on Scorpius later, I promise.**

 **Feedback:**

 **\- Thoughts on Lucius's impression of his grandson?**

 **\- Predictions on how Andrew comes into play with all of this?**

 **\- Predictions on what Draco might have to do?**

 **\- Thoughts on Scorpius's sacrifice? Predictions on what Freed Blood is doing to him?**

 **\- Any other thoughts on the Rita Skeeter article or what this might mean for the Minister?**

 **\- Did you guys like the mini-cousin bonding moment between James and Rose?**

 **\- Thoughts on the Rose/Al make-up moment?**

 **To finish things off, I'd like to make a little announcement. We're at the halfway point in the story now, as I plan on doing about fifty chapters, and I've been getting a lot of questions about whether or not I'm going to continue this story through their years at Hogwarts. Well...**

 **THERE WILL BE A SEQUEL.**

 **That's all I can say right now, as I'm still coming up with ideas as to where this is all going to go. But I do need some advice, as this is my first fanfic - should there be a separate fic continuing on or should I just continue in this same fic? Please leave your suggestions in the comments - I really appreciate it and I can't wait to see where this story goes!**

 **Until next time, this is LiveOutLoud382 :)**


	25. A Long-Ago Nightmare

_ONE MONTH AGO, SEPTEMBER 7._

"Hey, hey, hey – watch it!" cried Andrew as he was pushed to the ground. The leather robes became dusty from the alley ground. _Oh great,_ he thought bitterly as the two dark-clothed wizards began picking out his pockets. Miscellaneous objects began pouring onto the dirty ground – a pack of mints, a few galleons he had grabbed from a couple newbies, and a small scrap of parchment. "There – there has to be some mistake! I've always been faithful! It – it was just a slip-up!"

"And we can't allow _slips ups_ if we're going to get where we're going," one of them men told him. "I'm sorry, Andrew. You had a lot of potential. It just…wasn't enough."

And with a whoosh of the cold night air, the back doors slammed shut, leaving Andrew lying in the alleyway with only the shirt on his back.

"Son of a…" Andrew sat up, looking around hopelessly, but there was no one to be found.

They hadn't taken the coat, he was glad at least for that. Though it wasn't technically _his –_ I mean, what really was? – it felt like a second layer of skin. As long as he wore it, he was impenetrable. They couldn't break him. No one could.

Then why did he feel so confused?

In his mind, it was simple. He had a place where people respected him, a job he was actually good at, and most importantly, a cause to believe in. But in an instant, all of those things disappeared. He gripped the coat tighter, trying not to feel naked.

A single question, followed by a single answer, popped into his mind.

 _Whose fault is this?_

 _That Malfoy prat._

If you have to give Andrew Smelting credit for something, it was his will to survive. He could change, adapt to his surroundings. He was the ultimate chameleon. And right now, the circumstances were not in his favor, so he simply had to…turn the tables, so to speak. His own home – his own _family_ had betrayed him, turned him away at the slightest mistake. Maybe it really hadn't been home in the first place. Maybe he was still what he was two years ago…an orphan.

Pulling out two bricks from the alley floor, Andrew laid eyes on his second-most-prized possession – the bag. It had actually been his idea, really. Freed Blood suggested the whole "gun to the head" form of persuasion, but despite his unwavering support, he found it a little brash for his taste. Then on one lucky night at Hog's Head, due to some tactical trading, he had landed the Bag. Legend was it had claimed the lives of a hundred souls. The moral of the story? Believe it or not, flesh-eating slugs…eat flesh. Yeah. So don't mess around with them.

And so the Bag of a Hundred Souls was now being used to pick-pocket children. Tasteful, right?

But the trick to it – or to put it blatantly, the trick to _not_ die, was to insert your finger in the small crevice at the bottom of the bag, momentarily immobilizing the charm.

Andrew did just that and soon poured out a good handful of galleons, rubber bands, a few sickles, and gum wrappers. It wasn't enough to last him forever, but it was enough to at least find a place to stay for the night.

Closing his eyes in concentration, Andrew soon felt his body twisting and turning until he finally landed in front on the first place he could think of – the Leaky Cauldron.

First and foremost, he felt his face for any major body parts missing…nose, mouth, eyes…only half an eyebrow. Not bad. It was better than the time he left behind half of his –

Gripping the coat tightly and shoving both hands in his pockets, Andrew made his way towards the door. It was a drizzly, cold night in London – colder than you would expect September to be. In a way, it almost made him feel consoled that the weather was seemingly sympathizing to his emotions. An appropriately cold night to match the strange, cold feeling in his stomach.

He approached the counter where a small, stooped-over man stood waiting. The room smelt of mildew and figs.

"Room?" the man asked in a wavering voice.

Andrew nodded and reached deep in his right pocket, coming up with a handful of coins and spilled them onto the counter.

The man gave him a look, but nevertheless, began looking through the money. The Leaky Cauldron wasn't a place to ask questions.

"I'd say it's enough for three, four nights," the man told him. "How long will you be staying with us?"

"Oh, I was thinking three, four nights," Andrew answered quickly. His voice was sarcastic, though his expression remained blank. "And if you don't mind, I'd like to put a pin in this conversation and go to my room. Thanks."

The man looked taken back. "Ah, well…um…yes, of course. Right this way."

Andrew followed the man through the dining room, which was mostly empty except for a few sleeping drunks by the bar, including the bartender himself. They went up the creaking steps, and finally down a long, winding hallway. _Somewhere on this floor_ , Andrew thought mercifully, _will be my salvation._

"That crazy land-lady still around here?"

The man looked back and asked, "I beg your pardon?"

"That land-lady," Andrew explained, exasperated. "The one with the crazy blonde curls. She still here?"

"Miss Abbott? Oh, from time to time, sir. When she's not visiting her husband," the man told him, trying to remain pleasant. "He's a professor at Hogwarts, you know. Longbottom, I'd like to say? Ever heard about him?"

Andrew sighed and mumbled bitterly, "Have I ever…"

At last they arrived at a paint-chipped door was the numbers _731_ in gold lettering.

"Here's your key," the man told Andrew, handing him what he had promised. "I hope you enjoy your stay."

The man nodded and began hastily walking down the hall. Inserting the key and turning it twice, Andrew let himself inside. It was a plain room, but still better than he was used to.

Right before he shut the door, Andrew called to the man, "Hey!"

He whipped his head around. "Yes, sir?"

"If that land-lady or her husband comes around…let me know, will ya?"

Though his expression was obviously confused at the odd request, the man said quietly, "Yes, sir. I'll see to it."

With a loud creak, the door shut behind him. Andrew was alone, betrayed, and as much as he tried to ignore it, a little bit afraid.

0o0o0

The next couple days he spent in the bar, gambling on whatever he could, trying to scramble up more cash to lengthen his stay. If he couldn't, what was next? An alley? A park bench? Nothing seemed like a good option for the simple reason that nothing _was_ a good option. Andrew Smelting would go back to being a nobody – just another nose-wiping Hogwarts dropout.

Did he want to go back? No, of course not. He had made his decision long ago – there were bigger and better things than school. There were things he could fight for, things he could be a part of. To put it simply, Andrew was looking for something bigger than himself. And he thought he had found it…but it had been too good to be true.

He was busy drowning his sorrows in firewhiskey when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Smelting. Long time, no see."

Andrew turned to face a huge giant of a man. Boris Huckleberry was ten times bigger, ten times stronger, and therefore, ten times scarier than Andrew Smelting ever could be. Throughout his career of having no career, he and Boris had bumped into each other numerous times. And they all had to do with Boris's favorite topic in the world…money.

"Boris!" Andrew greeted cheerfully, holding up a mug. "My amigo, my pal, my _buddy…"_

Boris scoffed at the pathetic lifeform in front of him. "It's a shame we must always meet like this, Smelting, but you owe me. And don't try to act surprised…this is a year in the running, and I'm tired of your excuses." His voice dropped. "Your little Freed Blood buddies can't protect you now," he added hoarsely.

Andrew raised his eyebrows and took another gulp of whiskey. "Yeah, well, there won't be a problem with that anymore."

Now it was Boris's turn to raise an eyebrow. "They cut you out? After all this time, you got the boot?"

"Shut it, Huckleberry," Andrew told him off. "It was a…misunderstanding of sorts."

"You know," Boris began, taking a seat beside him at the bar, "rumor has it that a certain _Malfoy_ might be a part of all this…know anything about that?"

"What's it to you?"

"Well, I'm just saying, Smelting. I might be willing to forget this whole little escapade for some valuable information…people want to know. They're scared – Malfoy breaks out and just yesterday, one of Kingsley's little spies got taken –"

Andrew choked on his drink. "Wait, _what?"_

"You didn't know?" Boris asked, shoving a sickle on the bar and nodding to the bartender to fetch him a drink. "Yeah, in fact, I think it was Malfoy's _grandson_ who got grabbed at the rally. _Prophet's_ supposed to release something later today. Heard that Skeeter's got all the details, and we all know how we can count on her."

Andrew just stared at him. "I can't tell if you're joking or not."

"Look, all I'm saying is that people want to know. Kingsley's paying anyone he can find just to get information, so if you were there –"

 _Eureka._

Slamming his drink onto the bar, Andrew got up and fixed his coat, slinging a bag over one shoulder. "Well, Boris, it's been nice to catch-up, but I really should be going."

"Hey – what about my money?" Boris called angrily as Andrew inched towards the door.

"In a day or so, I'm going to be a _millionaire,_ compadre," he told him, smirking. "Money won't be a problem."

Feeling relieved and a little insane, Andrew strutted over to the front counter where the hunch-backed man stood waiting.

"Sir, can I help you?"

"That land-lady and her husband…are they going to be coming in today?"

The man frowned. "I should think so; they usually come in every Sunday. I was going to tell you, sir."

Andrew waved him off. "Doesn't matter. Do you know what time?"

"Around noon, I would think."

"Perfect."

"Should I pass on a message, sir?"

Andrew smiled. "Tell them that I have some news they may find to be quite…interesting."

0o0o0

 _The years following the war had been the roughest in Draco Malfoy's life. His father was now in prison. His mother's heart was now in shambles, as was her piece of mind. Draco, however, was fighting a battle all his own. Potter had saved him from any sort of major punishment – what he had done at Malfoy Manor payed off, and it seemed that the worst thing coming his way would be trying to pick up the pieces._

 _But there were no pieces._

 _It had been a week since Draco left the house. The only times he went out anymore was when he was required to – either for a hearing of some kind or meetings about his father's fate. All money and property would go to him, per his mother's request, but he almost didn't want it. It was blood money, accumulated over years of lies and deception, and owning it didn't make him feel any better about the situation at hand._

 _He had sat and watched as people died._

 _He had sat and watched as the Dark Lord killed his own followers._

 _He had sat and watched as all he had ever known was ripped away from him, churning and churning until it became twisted and cold._

 _And then there was the mark on his arm._

 _The mark of a coward._

 _But today was different. He had received a message from Kingsley, the newly appointed minister of magic, asking him to come into his office sometime that day. And so, taking a deep breath, Draco closed his eyes and apparated to the phone booth._

 _When he opened them, he was already inside. Relieved that no one had recognized him yet, Draco pushed a few buttons and descended to the Ministry._

 _Then came his least favorite part – the bathrooms. There was just something so outlandish about the idea that bothered him. Maybe it was the needlessness of it; maybe it was just the fact that lowering himself into a toilet didn't seem like the best situation in the world._

 _Nevertheless, he brought himself to flush and soon found himself sucked away._

 _As he made his way through the emerald tiled room that opened up before him, Draco gripped his trench coat tightly, hoping that by doing so, no one would notice him. But the act was futile._

 _First, came the glares. The looks spoke without words. "We know what you did and what it cost me," they said. "And we will never forgive you."_

Neither will I, _Draco often thought to himself. But telling them so wouldn't help the problem._

 _Then, the whispers. You didn't have to be able to fully hear them to know they were about you. The worst ones were whenever someone might combine the two, glancing_ and _whispering, all the while being obviously subtle. It was a fire that could never touch you, but burn you all the same._

 _Through the roar of the fire, Draco hadn't noticed that he had already arrived. Two great wooden double doors stood before him, reading, KINGSLEY SHACKLEBOLT, MINISTER OF MAGIC._

 _He didn't even have to knock before he heard, "Come in, Draco."_

 _Draco had to appreciate Kingsley for the lack of grandeur in his office, unlike so many of the ministers before him. This man had nothing to prove to anyone, and because of his forgiveness and knack for reason, he had the upmost respect for him._

 _"_ _You wanted to see me, sir?" Draco asked, taking a seat._

 _Kingsley wore dark blue robes – a more subdued color than he was used to, but appropriate for the time. Despite the plain appearance of his office, which consisted of desk, chairs, and a filing cabinet, the man still had style._

 _"_ _Yes, please, take a seat." And once Draco had done so, he continued, "These are difficult times, Draco, as I'm sure no one is more aware of then you. But we must persevere. One day there will be another great threat, another great tragedy, and the horror we are dealing with now will one day become only that of a long-ago nightmare."_

 _Draco nodded, unsure as to where he was going with this._

 _"_ _But the path to redemption is a steep, narrow one. Those who walk it will often fall, fail time and time again, and yet there is no better alternative. You, Draco, have proven to me that you deserve that redemption, and most of all…my trust."_

 _"_ _Sir?"_

 _"_ _I'm going to add you to my private security council. Your knowledge from the war, particularly what you have learned on the other side, makes you a strong ally. I've spoken with Mr. Potter numerous times on the subject, and he agrees. We need you on our side more than ever. There are Death Eaters still out there, retaliations still occurring, and our world needs stability. And who better than someone who's seen the effects of war, power, and greed firsthand?"_

 _"_ _Oh, sir…that – that would be an honor – but I just don't think I deserve this. Not so soon…"_

 _"_ _I'll give you a week to make up your mind, but I sincerely hope you take me up on my offer, Draco. You have potential, and I'd hate to see it wasted because of the man you used to be."_

 _"_ _Thank you, sir."_

 _"_ _But…I'm afraid that's not the only reason I called you in here today."_

 _Reaching underneath his desk, Kingsley revealed a small wooden chest with gold trimming. Strange markings were carved onto the lock, nearly impossible to interpret. He placed it gingerly on top of the desk._

 _"_ _This was your father's. We found it as we were going through his vault…I was going to give it you when the time was right – when you had proved to be a changed man. Key?"_

 _Draco immediately reached into his back pocket and pulled out a leather wallet. Tucked into the last compartment was none other than a golden key._

 _"_ _He gave it to me a long time ago….but I never realized that it might…." Draco's voice trailed off. After many years, he had dismissed the key as another one of his father's mysteries he may never solve. But now, before him, could quite possibly be the answer._

 _With a shaking hand, Draco leaned forward and placed the key inside the lock. He turned it twice until it clicked and unhinged itself, then Kingsley turned the chest around and slowly lifted the lid._

 _Draco couldn't believe his eyes. "B-But I thought they were all destroyed –"_

 _"_ _As did we," Kingsley said quietly, marveling at what lay in the chest. "But your father had one all these years…"_

 _"_ _My God…"_

 _"_ _We need you to protect it, Draco. If something as powerful as this gets in the wrong hands…the consequences could be disastrous."_

 _"_ _I won't let you down, sir."_

 _"_ _Terrible things happen to wizards who meddle with time, Draco. Prove to me that you are capable."_

 _"_ _I am. I promise."_

 _"_ _I certainly hope so, Draco. I hope so. This object has the ability to alter reality as we know it, corrupt the strong, and destroy all that we hold dear. We may never see another one like it, for it is quite possibly the last of its kind…the last time turner."_


	26. Chasing Ghosts, Chasing Time

_PRESENT DAY, OCTOBER_

The entire time Andrew Smelting gave his so-called "testimony", Rose couldn't help but glare at the greasy boy with raging ferocity. The nerve of him. The audacity. The idiocy. It was very clear in her mind that this boy was an enemy, and having this enemy get in the way of finding Scorpius – of even having him _inside her home –_ was a travesty.

On multiple occasions, Andrew would slip – miss a detail, forget a name maybe – and Rose found herself squeezing her cousin's hand as tightly as she could, her blood boiling. Clenching her teeth seemed to be her only defense against…well…herself. She was not one to stay silent and certainly not when someone she cared about was at risk.

"So then old Malfoy looks over at me and is all like, _what the hell is she doing here?_ And I of course told him what the little ginger had told me – that her mom, Hermia or whatever –"

"Hermione," Rose quipped. At the look from the ministry official's face, she promptly bit down on her tongue. It hurt, but not as much as her pride.

" _Breathe, Rosie,_ _breathe."_

" _Shut it, Potter."_

 _"_ _I'm just trying to help."_

 _"_ _Then stop helping!"_

"…and then I got carried off by the elders and thrown out into the streets like some dog!" Andrew finished. He sighed angrily. "Like I was nothing. Like I never did anything for them."

"Mr. Smelting, can you tell us the location of Freed Blood's meeting place?" Agent Fiddilt asked, his booming voice beginning to sound more like a Quidditch announcer than an interrogator.

Smelting just scoffed. "Strict authorization apparation. I was only allowed in and out, never outside or around it to actually see where I was. I could describe the carpet pattern, but I doubt that'd do you much good. And I've already told you about the meeting hall – that was connected to it. Other than that, I was never given any specific location, but to be honest, it didn't matter much. They'd pay for me to stay at a little flat in Knockturn alley – always paid in coins, never left a name or anything – invited me to meetings, and that was it. And in the Bunker itself, there was never any windows or – "

"The Bunker?" Fiddilt repeated, looking up from his notes.

"Yeah, that's what they always called it."

Agent Fiddilt scribbled something in his notebook, and then looked back up at Freed Blood's former gatekeeper. "Well, thank you for your testimony, Mr. Smelting. I'll bring it back to the Ministry for further analysis." All three men stood, files in hand.

They began to make their way to the door when they were stopped by an extremely panic-stricken Andrew Smelting.

"That's it?!" he asked, his eyes darting from man to man to man. Rose and Al could only watch and guess as to what he was thinking, but in reality, there was only one thought going through his mind.

"What about the tip?" he asked, trying to play subtlety but failing on all accounts. Taking one hand and slicking his greasy blonde hair back, he asked again, "I mean…won't nice gentlemen like you want to give me a little…compensation?"

Passively, Agent Hopscloth replied, "We have to take the data back to the Ministry. Until then, _sir,_ I'm afraid no one will be getting _any_ compensation."

"B-But I'm your man on the inside! I've been with Freed Blood – I know how they work! You're saying my information isn't even a little valuable?" When they didn't reply, he let out a forced laugh. "The sad part is, your Ministry is so _desperate_ for information, but you're so stuck in your ways that you can't even take what's being _handed to you!"_ Reaching over the couch to grab his coat, he muttered, "Stupid politics."

Agent Fiddilt sighed and opened the front door, allowing his colleagues to pass before him. "Mr. Smelting, whether or not you are compensated, you should at least be grateful that the Minister's agreed to pardon you for your actions against the ministry. I am also inclined to urge you from committing any felonies in the future." He reached inside his robe pocket and pulled out an envelope with a very familiar-looking seal on it. "Professor McGonagall sends her best wishes."

Andrew took the envelope and looked down on it incredulously. He opened his mouth to reply, but thinking better of it, hid the letter inside his coat.

And with a quick _Good day,_ the door slammed shut, leaving two Aurors, two spies, and one revolutionary standing wordlessly in a suburban living room.

Andrew was the first to break the silence. "Well," he mumbled, eyebrows raised, "they were lovely."

Suddenly, there was a loud cry from upstairs. "DAD! MY TEXTBOOK ATE MY TOENAIL AGAIN! ...NOW IT'S GOING FOR THE CAT!"

Harry wiped his brown and sighed, running up the staircase to rescue his eldest son. "I keep telling Hagrid to change books, but _nooo,_ it's just a dandy idea to have literature with fangs…"

He disappeared behind his son's bedroom door, leaving Ron, Rose, and Albus in a strange silence.

"Mr. Weasley," Andrew addressed curtly.

"Smelting."

"You're looking dapper today."

"Smelting."

More silence.

"RON – I NEED YOUR HELP UP HERE!" cried Harry Potter from upstairs. There a strange ripping sound, followed by a girly scream – it was difficult to tell if it his or his son's. "THE CAT'S FIGHTING BACK!"

"Coming, mate!" Ron hollered back and began running up the steps. Midway, he stopped dead in his tracks and slowly turned to face the three in the living room.

"Don't try anything while I'm gone, Smelting _,"_ he warned, shaking a finger. "The Minister may have pardoned you, but I'm not leaving you alone with my daughter."

"I'm here," Al mumbled.

"Remember – I'm upstairs and I can hear _everything."_ He hesitated, and then feeling confident in his fathering-abilities, ran to rescue his best friend from savage literature.

This left Rose Weasley with quite a predicament – she was in the same room with the one person she couldn't stand to be in the same room with.

"So I get the honor of lounging with the Ministry's top private-eyes!" he cried, clapping his hands together dramatically. "Aren't I lucky?"

Rose let out an impatient huff and began guiding the greasy teenager towards the door. "Thank you _so much_ for your _much needed_ help, but I think you should be going."

"I'm almost getting the feeling I'm _unwelcomed_ here," Andrew rebuffed mockingly.

Al stared at the ground and shuffled his feet. " _Where ever did you get that idea…?"_

"Look, you made your case, and they said you'd get your money soon. I'd prefer that you leave now," Rose told him through clenched teeth.

"What ever happened to that sweet little newbie begging, _I'm not my mommy and daddy – oh, please, Mr. Andrew, sir_?"

"I lost one of my best friends that night," Rose said, suddenly very serious. "I have no idea if he's alive or dead or whatever the hell they could be doing to him. And every step closer they get to exploiting Freed Blood, it's another step back to finding him. You can laugh about it, play it off as if it's some big game, but it's far from it, and I'd really appreciate it if you could stop your little renegade-slacker act and leave this house so that we can find him."

There was a long pause before Andrew put up his hands and muttered, "Fine by me."

Just before he shut the door behind him, Andrew turned and told her, "A little friendly advice? Don't get your hopes up, kid. Lucius Malfoy is a maniac – your little friend could be long gone by now, maybe even past that. Don't go chasing after ghosts."

And the door shut.

Rose stood and faced the doorway as if it were a challenger, a final obstacle standing in her way. Angry tears pricked in her eyes, but she fought them off with everything she had, because she knew that he was still alive. Deep in her gut, far beyond the layers of stubborn gingerness, laid the truth. And that truth was that Scorpius Malfoy was somewhere out there, breathing and heart beating.

And yet she could not look away from the door.

"He's lying, you know," she told her cousin, not leaving her post. "He's just trying to psych us out…he knows Scorpius is alright."

Albus, meanwhile, felt as if he were on the verge of falling off a cliff. Depending on the way the wind blew, he would either fall to safety…or to his doom. "What if…" he struggled to say, but the words were refusing to form, "…what if something…happened?"

"No." Rose swallowed and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "It didn't."

Al wanted to offer a theory, a possible outcome, but truth be told, he was just as scared as Rose was. From the short time they had together, Scorpius had proven himself to be an unceasing friend. To make matters worse, he had sacrificed himself so that he and Rose could make a clean getaway…it hurt to imagine that sacrifice wasted. Speaking against Rose right now didn't seem like the best option, so the green-eyed boy resorted to staying silent.

Rose finally spoke, her voice quiet but defiant. "All these hearings, all the questioning…they aren't going anywhere, Al. If we're going to find Scorpius in time, we'll have to do it ourselves."

"But how?"

 _How?_

"I…" Rose trailed off. Then, like a lightning strike, the most obvious answer became clear. It was as close as the tip of her nose…or, more accurately, the front of her lawn. With one swift motion, she opened the front door and bolted out into the yard. Andrew Smelting was standing out by the curb, a thumb jutted out towards passing cars.

"SMELTING!"

Andrew whipped his head around to see a sweating Rose Weasley bounding towards him. "What do you want, Weasley?"

"Listen, I know that you –" she began, but stopped and frowned at the leather-clad teenager. "Hitch-hiking? That's a bit tasteless. Why don't you just apparate?"

He sighed. "They may have pardoned me, but the ministry wants to keep me on a leash at all times. So certain… _privileges_ were taken away." He reached into his pocket, pulled out a piece of gum and plopped it into his mouth. "Now, whaddaya wahn, Weeeeley?"

"You and I both know that you're not getting that money any time soon. Kingsley's got bigger things to worry about than paying a washed-up Hogwarts dropout, and quite frankly, a total loser."

"No arguments. Continue."

"They're just going to use your information and leave you out to dry," she explained. Straightening her back and allowing her poker face to shine through, she added, "But it doesn't have to be that way."

"Why not?"

"Because you have _me."_

She stared at Andrew.

Andrew stared back.

Suddenly, he erupted into gut-busting laughter. Clutching his stomach and snorting loud enough to wake up the whole neighborhood, Andrew sputtered, " _Y-You?"_ He snorted some more, giggling like a preschooler. "Oh – _Oh,_ that's rich!"

Rose folded her arms stubbornly. "I'm serious."

"Oh, I can tell! That's what makes it so –" He could barely finish his sentence before he started laughing some more. "– so _hilarious!_ You just take yourself so _seriously!_ I mean, what could I possibly gain from you? How old are you…nine?"

"Eleven," Rose corrected. "And a half," she mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

"Okay, so, _eleven,_ but you didn't answer my question," he pointed, still wiping his eyes from his hysterical giggle-attack. "What could you offer me?"

"Connections," she answered quickly. "I'm a _Weasley,_ Smelting. Born from two-thirds of the Golden Trio. _And_ I know Hogwarts inside and out. Think about it."

The smile was wiped off of Andrew's face as he finally took her offer seriously. He hated to admit it, but the kid had a point. If he was going to go on like this, it wouldn't be a terrible idea to have connections inside the Ministry – and _the Golden Trio,_ no less. "Okay," he said thoughtfully, "but what do you need from me?"

Rose couldn't resist it – the smirk you get when you know you have the upper hand. Being a Weasley was finally paying off and using her hereditary power for the sake of good gave her an adrenaline rush.

"A way in."

0o0o0

Malfoy Manor was swimming in dark history – drowning in it, more like it. Draco Malfoy had never felt it more than on that night.

Each minute he had to wait, he suffocated. Each second he spent wondering where he could be, he was strangled. Each day that drudged past was like breathing in a sandstorm. A father's job is to protect, to guide – and he had let his son down. Now, he had to do anything in order to set things right.

The Ministry thought they knew who they were dealing with. Their plan was a simple one – one that had been affective several times before: gather, locate, capture, remove, analyze, and imprison. But that wouldn't work this time. Draco had a sneaky suspicion that Kingsley realized this, too, but of course the man never said a word against it. Men in power are like bombs – depending on when and where they go off, it can either be a cataclysmic success or an even greater failure.

Like so many times before, Draco Malfoy was the one who had to carry the burden. More specifically – the truth.

There was a flash of lightning, causing him to jump. The entire house was momentarily illuminated in a pale white light. It only was a moment – possibly a millisecond – long, but Draco saw him. He saw him perfectly clear.

"Lucius," he addressed the figure in the darkness.

"Draco," hissed a seemingly disembodied voice, "I'm guessing you have what I require?"

Taking a deep breath, Draco picked up the intricate box off of the table and began walking in the direction of the voice. Before he knew it, two cold hands reached out of the shadows and carefully took it.

"After all this time…" Lucius muttered, caressing the box as if it were a godly treasure. "…you've had it here?"

Draco said nothing. It wasn't that he was afraid to – he had learned to face his father long ago – but that he knew what would happen if he did.

"'Money is power'," Lucius recited. "I'm sure you've heard that one, my boy? But you see, as much as money helps to gain and conquest…it cannot retrieve what is lost."

"Time is the ultimate enemy, Draco. It is constantly gnawing at us, clawing away what is precious and true, leaving us stranded in the unknown. Few wizards have been able to fully comprehend it. Yes, they try to master them all – life…love…death…but the master of time?" He chuckled to himself. "I suppose it's simply too daunting of a task."

"You have what was promised to you – I'd like the same," Draco finally said. "Where is he?"

Lucius only stared at his son, his cold eyes blinking in the darkness and dampness of the night. "Where did I go wrong with you, my son?"

"I asked you a question."

"And so did I," he snapped. When the tenseness had faltered, he sighed, allowing his words to pierce his son where it hurt him most. "You could've had it all – power, luxury, and yet you threw it all away to join the world that had made you its enemy." There was a slight pause before he dared to ask, "Why?"

"You blame the world for all of your problems," Draco replied coldly, "but _you_ chose your path, Father, _you_ chose to become the man you are today. And I'm not you." He locked eyes with his adversary. "I will never be like you."

"Pity." Lucius began walking towards the door. "When I have left, the location you desire will appear on the card I had given you during our last meeting. There your boy will be, alive and well."

But Draco wasn't a fool. "I'd much prefer to see it now, if you don't mind."

Lucius smirked. "Quick, just like your mother," he told him. Void of emotion, he added, "How is she?"

"Managing," Draco replied. At the topic of his mother, he began having a strange feeling in his gut – it was a mix between loss and nostalgia for the life he once knew. He was a stranger to it now. "She stopped reading your letters."

"When?"

"After the first one."

Lucius shook his head. "Stubborn, that woman. Never could listen to reason."

"Never could listen to _lies,_ you mean," Draco said coldly. "All your promises of setting things right, of getting revenge on the system that had brought you justice – it took its toll on her. She managed, though…we all did."

"You think I wanted to stay locked away in that cell? You think that's what I planned?" Lucius asked, his voice rising. "I took you away from that battle because I _knew_ we were going to lose – not because I was a coward! I was trying to protect you!"

"From yourself," Draco said quietly. "You tried to protect us from your own mistakes, and it failed."

"Not now. Not after _this_." He held the box up.

"Terrible things happen to wizards who meddle with time," Draco warned.

"I prefer not to think of it as meddling – more like…righting a few wrongs."

"By whose standards?"

Lucius grinned wickedly, as if he knew a secret his son didn't. "I once served a man who thought he could conquer death. But one can only live for so long when time is their mortal enemy." He nodded towards him. "There."

Draco reached into his back pocket and pulled out the card. Though previously blank, it now shone a bolded address:

 **KING'S CROSS.**

 **1:00 A.M.**

 **THURSDAY.**

"Goodnight, Draco," Lucius told his son maliciously, opening the door and stepping backwards into the darkness. "Pleasant dreams."

The lightning flashed once more and his father was gone.

 _"_ _You're one of the good guys, Daddy," Scorpius said earnestly. "Only, people don't know it yet."_

 _A misty-looking smile grew on Draco Malfoy's pale face, melting the iciness that had long tarnished his blue eyes. "And – if you were me – how would you fix it?"_

 _"_ _I'd tell stories," his son answered without hesitation. "But I'd change how it ends."_

And that very night, Draco Malfoy made a vow that he would.


	27. Pomp and Circumstance

When Albus turned five years old, some small part of him began to ache.

It wasn't that anything was _wrong –_ no, life was just fine. James was two years older and never failed to quite his torturing; Lily was a wide-eyed two year-old who always failed to leave things be. His mom had just switched to the Daily Prophet full-time and his dad was as busy as ever.

It was subtle at first – a few lingering moments of confusion, a strange look in the mirror (five year-olds and mirrors are like a match made in heaven). Something inside of Al was loose, hanging off its hinges. Someone so young should never feel that way – and most don't – and yet, here he was, staring at himself in the mirror, feeling lost. And alone. But mostly lost.

James was seven and already getting into insane amounts of trouble. It didn't cause any problems…for him at least. Lily was three and already the darling of every person she came across. And then there was Albus. Who was Albus Severus Potter?

…the boy with green eyes.

And as those green eyes stared back at him in the tall mirror that hung in the hall, Albus began asking questions, for instance:

Why did he feel so…icky?

Before he could repeat the question in his head once more, his mother came lumbering down the hall, basket of laundry in hand. She nearly passed him by, but out of luck, a single sock came toppling to the floor. As she reached to get it, mumbling something about "cleaning the Muggle way", her eyes landed on her small son.

He had both hands flat on the mirror as if he were bracing himself to jump into it.

"Hey, little man," she said, in a sort of candid way. She wished she could read his thoughts at this very moment, get some kind if a sneak peek into the mind of a five year-old, but she was completely against using legilimency on her son – or anyone, for that matter. "What are you doing?"

"Just looking," Al mumbled, still staring intently at himself.

A smile tugged at Ginny's lips. "Looking at…?"

Albus replied with a question: "Does Daddy have green eyes?"

"He does," she replied, grinning.

"And…I have green eyes?"

"You do."

"Why?"

Ginny opened her mouth to answer, but stopped, realizing that she didn't have a real one and knowing that her son deserved it. "I…because…because that's who you are," she managed.

"Why?"

 _Why?_ Ginny wondered. _Why, why, why, why, why…?_

Suddenly, a brilliant thought shook the ex-Quidditch player's brain. Dropping the basket on the ground, she looked down at her son and told him, "Wait right there," and ran into his bedroom, which was right down the hall. Grabbing a small box of crayons and a sheet of white paper off his dresser, she ran back over to him. Cramming a worn-down stub-of-a-green-crayon in his fist, she held out the paper and asked, "You want to know why?"

The little boy nodded earnestly.

"Good," his mother told him. "Because only you can figure it out."

And he took the paper in his small left hand, placed it on the wooden floor, and held the green crayon steadily in his right. Biting his lip, he began to trace two big green circles. Before he went on any further, Albus looked up once more. Ginny nodded, somehow her smile growing even larger. Feeling more confident, he darkened them, shaped them, and extended his hand towards his mother. "Black?" he asked.

Ginny placed the black crayon in his small, sweaty hand.

And so began a long and illustrious career of figuring things out.

Al stayed there all through the day and late into the night – shading, doodling, creating drawing after drawing. A small stack began to grow. The first few were self-portraits, but by the next hour, he had graduated to landscapes and by the next, it was family portraits, and so on and so on. Ginny came by later on to bring him dinner, as did Harry, but besides that, the day had been spent between him and his drawings.

Bit by bit, the aching came to a stop.

Around eleven o'clock that night, there was the sound of footsteps, half-asleep muttering, and a thud. _"OW!"_ cried James. "Al!"

Ginny, wrapped in a pink robe, came running up the stairs, holding a sleeping Lily in her arms. "What? What is it? Are you alright?" she asked frantically.

James sighed frustratingly and pointed to the sleeping boy in the hallway. "Al's been lying out here all night, and I could've died!"

"I doubt that," Ginny muttered, relieved. She looked down at her sleeping son. He had his head on top of the pile of drawings, and his arms and legs were strewn out at all angles. At the top of the pile lay another self-portrait, much like the first one he had drawn for her, but the colors were deeper, the shading more varied. To put it simply, it wasn't the average skill for a boy of five.

"Whoa," James muttered, seeing what his mother was staring at. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. "Whoa."

"Looks like we have a little artist," Ginny whispered.

"Do…do we just leave him here?"

"In a bit."

About an hour later, Ginny came back up to bring him a proper pillow and blanket. There, lying on the bare floor, she found not one, but two sleeping boys.

0o0o0

Rose was a month older, and they had decided a while back to wait until Albus had also turned eleven for them to buy their wands. It didn't bother her much, having to wait – it was a moment the two had dreamt about since they were in diapers, and it wouldn't have been the same without the other. Rose had bounded in, red curls flying, and waltzed up to the counter, a huge smile on her freckled face.

"Sir? Mr. Ollivander?"

The ancient, silver-eyed man almost seemed to materialize from the wand shelves. As he slowly came into view, Al could see that he, too, was smiling. Why? He honestly couldn't tell you.

"Rose Weasley, no doubt," the man greeted her. "How are Mum and Dad?"

The two chatted about like old friends, while Albus stood awkwardly by the door. Rose was so much more graceful in social situations…or in any situations, really. She could meet a stranger on the side of the street and become best friends, all the while never letting her ego go even a little. She was a firecracker, and Al the gunpowder. Despite all his shyness, they were the unbeatable duo. Rose and Albus. Albus and Rose. He held her back when necessary, and she urged him forward whenever she could. He offered a soft, sad smile and dared to ask the questions no one felt they could – she gave an adventurous twinkle in her eye and a mind that was constantly running a mile a minute.

"A bit like your mother, a bit like the other," Ollivander mused, grinning at his rhyme. "Let's find something a bit in between – or better yet – a combination of both."

And he was right. It only took only one wand, and Rose had found her soulmate. Ebony – perfect for those who hold tightly to their beliefs, have the courage to act of their own conscience, and rarely stray from the path they set out on. Rigid – just like her bum, James used to joke until she'd cry – and dragon heartstring.

"They say ebony keeps those who hold it on the path they set out on…I have another theory, however," the wandmaker told her. "I'd say it helps them _find_ their path. Use it well."

Without a second thought, Rose promised and promised over and over again, too excited to be the owner of her own wand than to take the old man's advice to heart.

Looking up, Ollivander squinted towards the front of the shop, to the boy shuffling shyly by the door.

"Mr.…Potter."

Al looked like a deer on headlights. He wished his dad or mum could be with him now, but it had been Rose's idea to run off by themselves and get their wands before the adults could get in the way with all the pomp and circumstance of the occasion. But there was nothing he could do now. He was on his own.

"Y-Yes, sir?"

The old man beckoned him forward. "Come here," he told the boy quietly. Wordlessly, Albus did so. He glanced to his right and received a beaming smile and two thumbs-up from his cousin, then turned to face the famous wandmaker.

"You're going to be a tricky one, I can tell," Ollivander said.

Albus's shoulders fell slightly. He hadn't wanted to cause the man any trouble – he hadn't wanted to cause the man anything.

Ollivander offered an encouraging grin. "But I've never failed once, and I am certainly not going to fail now." He nodded and began rummaging through the shelves. "Now, let's see what we have…"

The first wand had resulted in an explosion that had taken out two rows of wands. The next wasn't much better – Ollivander lost an eyebrow in the process. And so was the next and the next and the next…

Albus couldn't help but wonder if they'd ever find the right one.

Finally, the ninth or tenth wand they tried hadn't caused any explosions, destroyed any vases, or caused anyone to lose any body parts. Instead, blue sparks appeared, dancing about the green-eyed boy like a joyous celebration, like two friends who had never met and yet were reuniting all the same.

"Beech wood, nine inches," said the wandmaker. "Slightly springy. Phoenix feather." He smiled down at the boy, who was gaping at the wand with great admiration. "I offered a wand much like this to your father once – but alas, it did not choose him."

Albus looked extremely confused. "Sir?"

"The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter. I have said it a million times, and I assume I will say it a million times more. This wand, though powerful, did not see itself fit for your father, and yet, here it is…deciding upon you."

This only caused Albus to gape at it even more.

"The beech wand is known for selecting the witch or wizard that is wise beyond their years and can be quite powerful in the hands of the open-minded and tolerant but quite lenient in the that of the opposite."

The old man took the wand from the amazed boy and placed it gingerly inside the box. "There are two types of people in this world…those who can prove that everyone is correct…and those that can prove they are wrong. Never be afraid to do the latter, Mr. Potter. Uncovering the truth is amongst the noblest things a person can do."

Albus thanked the man, and the two cousins turned to go. Just before they opened the door, the old wandmaker called behind them, "Oh – and don't put that in your back pocket!"

The two promised not to and walked out into the bustling Diagon Alley, ready to face the wrath of two sets of parents who weren't too pleased that they had missed out of one of the greatest moments of their children's lives.

"Maybe…maybe we weren't meant to see it," Harry Potter would say to his wife in the weeks that followed.

Ginny furrowed her brow. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Maybe it was something that was meant to be private between him and Rose," he explained, and Ginny soon found herself agreeing. Her boy was only eleven, and yet he was already swimming about in more mysteries than those green eyes could ever seem to hold.

0o0o0

"Al, are you going to put those down? This is a _stakeout,_ not an art studio."

Al set down his pencil and pad and admired his work. The shadows of Kings Cross at midnight made for an amazingly picturesque landscape. Annoyingly, he complained to his cousin, "This is pointless! We've been at it for hours, and not one person has shown up. It's a dead end, admit it."

Rose sighed. She was completely decked out in stake-out gear – an all-black sweater and pants and had even underlined her eyes in black paint. Her curly hair was pulled back, seeming more like a fiery log than a ponytail. Giving him a look that clearly meant business, she said sternly, "Andrew said the elders meet once every month for a business meeting. And when they do, we'll be ready." She gestured to the collection of items beside them on the ground. "Cameras...granola bars…puking pestles…even smuggled a bit of love potion. You never know."

Albus shook his head. "I have to be honest with you – I don't like this."

"Oh, _get over yourself,_ Al! We only have one night before we go back to Hogwarts. This is our only chance," she said. Then she laughed a little. "No one's seen us. Stop being such a worry wart."

The two cousins were crouched behind two shipping crates in the deserted entrance of King's Cross. It had been quite an adventure to get to this point – a positive outcome to a series of coincidences. These included:

 _Ron deciding it was best for them to stay the night, as he and Harry had much work to do before the Ministry's final pardon of Andrew._

 _The utter stealth of Rose and Albus as they crept past Lily's room, past James's room, down the stairs, and out the door._

 _The luck that Albus knew where his father and mother had kept their old brooms – in an old storage shed beside the house. There lay a Firebolt and a Cleansweep. Being the stronger athlete, Rose graciously took the ancient thing, while Al climbed onto the proud Firebolt._

 _Albus never once fell off the broom. This was not only monumental because he didn't die, but it destroyed a long list of failed Quidditch attempts and their subsequent, dooming expectations._

 _They remained out of sight from Muggles all the way inside the station._

The bad luck?

 _Freed Blood - and more specifically, Scorpius – was nowhere in sight._

"Why isn't the Ministry here? Andrew told them everything, didn't he?"

"The guy was in it for the money. He told them everything he had to…but not this."

Al raised an eyebrow. "You had to bargain, didn't you?"

Rose reached down and checked the lens.

"With what?"

"Please, Al, for God's sake," Rose muttered, "I know what I'm doing."

"Do you?" he tested.

Rose opened her mouth to reply, but settled on an angry glare instead.

"It's for Scorpius," she answered. "You want to find him, don't you?"

Al scowled back at her. "Not if it means you or I get hurt!"

"Typical," Rose whispered hoarsely. "Just typical…"

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"You Slytherins always thinking of yourselves – Scorpius sacrificed himself for us! The least we can do is try to bring him back," she spat. She glanced at her cousin once more, and then faced away, staring intently out into the deserted train station.

Albus could only stare at his cousin. "Fine then." He turned his back on her. "One more hour, then I'm going home. You can enjoy your stupid stakeout by yourself."

"Good."

"Great."

Rose took her shirt and cleaned off the lens, then looked through it again. If she was honest with herself, she would have to admit that she didn't exactly know why looking through the camera was a good idea. She had seen it before during some stakeouts of her father's, and all in all, it seemed very professional. But her mind was wandering farther away from the boy in the hands of the enemy and closer to the boy that was sitting beside her.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it," she told him quietly.

"One more hour. Promise?"

Rose thought for a moment…then slowly nodded.

"Promise."

It was quite a while before they spoke again – it might've been because Rose had been forced to eat her own words, or maybe because Al had astoundingly watched her do so. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, Rose saw something move. A phantom. A shadow of sorts.

"Al," she whispered, nudging her cousin. "Al – look."

Al whipped his head around and followed her finger towards the shadow in the distance. "Oh my God…it's a _guy!"_ he said in disbelief. In his defense, it had been a long night. "Is he with Freed Blood?"

"It's hard to tell…"

The shadow of man looked around to see if anyone was following him, then turned right towards the trains.

"Quick! Follow him!" Rose whispered, army-crawling out from behind the shipping crates.

"Rosie – _wait –!"_ Al cried, setting aside the supplies and following her. By the time he had gotten out, she was already sprinting away in the darkness. As he watched her creep away, he sighed. " _No, Albus – we have to stick together!"_ he mocked. Sighing once more, he muttered, "You are a piece of work, Rosie." He sprinted after her.

By the time he had caught up with Rose, she had her back against the main entryway into King's Cross, with the Shadow some thirty yards away, making his way deeper and deeper into the station.

"It's a man, I know that much," she filled him in. "Forties, maybe. Late thirties. Doesn't seem to be carrying any sort of weapon…unless he's got a wand, but I couldn't tell you."

As if on cue, the man pulled something out of his coat and whispered, " _Lumos."_ The tip of the wand became aglow, and the man continued on his way, going farther into the darkness.

"Whoopsy-daisy, he's got a wand," Al half-heartedly joked. Then, in a more serious tone, asked, "Well, what are you going to do?"

Rose smiled knowingly. Reaching into her boot, she pulled out a wand of her own – ten inches, ebony, dragon heartstring, quite rigid. "You forget who your stake-out partner is," she told him mockingly. Grinning, she echoed, "Whoopsy-daisy."

 _"_ _Whoopsy-daisy,"_ Al grumbled.

Rose became quiet with concentration, as she pointed the wand directly at the man in the distance.

Al suddenly realized what was about to go on. "Oh my – wait, wait, Rose – shouldn't we think about this?"

"If there's a chance he can lead us to Scorpius," she told him, "No."

Before Albus could argue, she held her wand steadily and shouted in a clear voice, " _PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!"_

Her sharp words cut through the cold, early winter air as the spell flew across the darkened platform. The man barely had time to react before the eleven year-old girl's spell hit him squarely in the back, locking his legs together, and bringing him to the ground.

"C'mon, Albus!" she called to her cousin, but he remained motionless. Not wasting a second, Rose sped down the station as fast as a speeding Snitch, not faltering until she reached the man. But when she did, however, it was not at all what she had expected. She could only stand over the man and gape at what she saw.

Albus noticed this and worriedly called after her, "Rose? Who is he?"

She said nothing – too amazed, too astounded to formulate words.

Seeing as he wasn't going to get any information out of her, he raced down the platform until he reached his petrified cousin. "Alright, Rose, what's going –?"

Then he saw it – saw _him._

Finally, Rose found the will to muster three words: "His own son…"

Draco Malfoy lay frozen at their feet.


	28. Author's Note 7

**Hi, guys!**

 **I'd like to take a moment just to let you guys know how incredibly awesome you are. 62 followers, almost ten thousand views, 69 reviews, 32 favs...and none of it would be possible without you guys continually reading chapter after chapter, giving me your input. TSUR is my first fanfic and to get this much positive feedback is so overwhelming. So thank you, you crazy Potterheads :P**

 **Second off, I'd like to make a note of Chapter 21, or** ** _Pomp and Circumstance._** **Some of you were wondering, and yes, the "wand meanings" are Rowling-legit. I did my research on Pottermore (and admittedly, multiple Harry Potter wiki sites) and chose wood and core combos that I felt best fit my interpretations of the characters. Also, as a little Easter Egg, I picked the two wand woods that didn't choose Harry when he went to Ollivander's on his first year. It was a lot of fun to read about :) If any of you don't already have a Pottermore account, I would definitely suggest it - JK has posted so much interesting background information on multiple characters and even a sort of epilogue to the epilogue...no spoilers, but you should definitely check it out.**

 **Also, I've gotten a couple comments on Rose's character during Chapter 21...and I know, she is sort of being a steam-engine-of-an-annoyance. But it's all based off of her guilt for leaving Scorpius behind, and with someone who's already so stubborn, the stress of it all isn't helping her much either. So don't worry - things will get better for her soon enough ;)**

 **TSUR has also been added to a community called "19 Years Later: The Next Generation." There are a lot of other cool Next Gen fics on it if you guys want to check it out.**

 **Finally, THE STORY ISN'T ENDING JUST YET SO DON'T WORRY! We still have a bit to go...so if any of you were worried Chapter 20 was the last...well...it obviously isn't, as I just posted 21, so don't worry :) And even once this one is done, I am (hopefully) going to continue it through their second year, maybe even more if it works out.**

.hectate - **Don't worry, I will! :P We're a little more than halfway, and then I will work on the sequel. Thanks for reviewing!**

Son of Whitebeard - **I'm glad that you liked the Kingsley/Draco bit! It was really interesting to write a post-war Draco. As for the time-turner idea, I'm really excited about where this will take the story! :)**

nikkiRiddle - **I know, I'm really sorry about Rose, but at this point, she really isn't supposed to be likable. But I promise things will get better soon! Her character's just at a rough point right now. And if you're worried about the miscommunication thing, it will all clear up soon. But again, your reviews are so awesome, and I'm glad that you're liking where this story is going! :) And most importantly, I'm glad the story's making sense now :P**

cImmortalc - **Yes, that liquid was the same Dumbledore drank in Half-blood Prince but as I said in the chapter, "A small dose wasn't enough to be fatal, but it would do the trick." So although it won't lead to Scorpius's death, Lucius did use it to torture him. But I'm really glad you're liking the story! Don't worry, it's not over yet!**

ProcrastinatingRavencalw001 - **So much throwing XD But as far as Astoria goes, I suppose she just never really fit into the story much...so far. Who knows? She might show up more later - it's a good idea, though! Please keep reviewing - thanks!**

hisuichanxx - **Wow. Just...wow. Seriously, you have no idea how much your comment meant to me. That is so sweet of you! I really appreciate everything that you said, and I agree with your idea - 30,000 chapters might be...interesting :P Anyway, thank you again and I hope you continue to enjoy this fic!**

 **Input time!**

 **\- How do you guys feel about the development of Andrew's character? He's beginning to play more of a focal role now, and he's so much fun to write :)**

 **\- Any predictions as to what Lucius might be planning to use the time-turner for?**

 **\- Did you guys like the Draco/Lucius moment? That scene was probably my most favorite to write so far...there's just so much left unsaid between the two. Hope you guys felt that it worked!**

 **\- Also, how did you guys like the Albus flashbacks? I felt they were necessary to give more insight to his character, and I hope you guys felt the same.**

 **\- Just because I'm curious - which character out of the trio do you like the most or feel is the best presented? I know that Scorpius hasn't been in recent chapters, but I'm really interested to see what you guys have to say :)**

 **The chapters are now coming out weekly, so I'll have one ready for next weekend!**

 **Thanks again!**


	29. Tears on the Kitchen Floor

There were two shadows moving towards them, and Rose knew one thing and one thing only – they weren't the good kind.

Momentarily looking up from the immobile man on the floor, Rose whispered in a sharp voice, "Al. Shadows. Look."

Al's frantic green eyes shifted to the right. Jaw dropping, he muttered, "Oh God…!"

"It's them!" confirmed Rose, looking from Draco to her cousin and from her cousin to Draco. "We have to move!" she shouted-whispered, pulling Albus by his sleeve.

Al wouldn't budge. "Wait – we're – we're just going to _leave_ him?"

Rose stopped dead in her tracks. She was quiet for a moment, then shook her head, ushering away any and all considerable doubts she had about herself. " _No,_ no, of course not. Is that what you thought?"

Al wanted to believe her. He really did.

Shaking her head, she repeated, "No. God, no. He's Scorpius's dad – of course we're not. Let me…just let me think of a plan…"

"Well, there's not a lot of time for that!"

Draco was not giving up, fighting the jinx with all he had. " _Weasley…P-Potter…l-listen to me…"_

" _Shhh,_ will you?" Rose told the man. "Well, he's too heavy. We can't lift him."

 _"_ _W-Weasley!"_

"Rose?" Al asked, his cousin deep in thought.

Of course she knew what to do.

"Rose?!"

Of course she did.

" _Rose!_ They're coming!"

 _Of course._

"Al!" Rose cried, realization coming over her. "Leave him there! Just leave him!"

A horrified expression mounted onto his face, Albus cried, " _What?_ Are you mad?!"

"Trust me! Get back – back to the hallway! Move!" she called.

Still shell-shocked, Albus did as he was told and followed his cousin into the shadows of the hallway leading into the station. The shadowed men were getting closer, growing taller in the dim illumination of the lamplight. Al stuck close to his cousin, waiting for her next move. But Rose only sat still, wand in hand and lips pursed. The shadows had just made the turn into figures when Albus's cousin jutted her wand into the night and whispered, " _Wingardium Leviosa."_

In an instant, the figures became men. Two hooded figures made their way through the seemingly abandoned station, a strange sort of crate levitating behind them.

They spoke in hushed tones, only ever a few words at a time for fear of being heard by the people they believed not to be there:

"Leave it there."

"Where is he?"

"Who knows?"

"It's not a trap?"

"Draco Malfoy has too much to lose."

They set the strange object on the ground with a thud. Rose inspected it at once – long and narrow, eerily similar to a tomb. But whose? She shivered. This did not go unnoticed by Albus, who slipped his arm around her shoulders, holding her tightly in the dark. For a moment, Rose fought the urge to shove the arm off when a wave of guilt came over her, along with an ocean of questions. _Has it been me this whole time? Am I the broken one? Am I the girl who let everyone down? Am I the spy? The traitor?_ And the worst of all –

 _Am I the undeserving sacrifice?_

A silent tear rolled down her cheek as she held her cousin – her best friend – tighter. Albus asked no questions, made no comments, nor whispered a word because for a moment, they were five. Rose had just come running in crying, as her toy broomstick had snapped in half during a fall. Albus was on the floor of his grandmother's kitchen, green crayon in hand. As his cousin cried over bruised body parts and egos, he hugged her tightly on the tile floor until her breathing was calmed. For a second – just a second – they were back on that tiled floor, crying and hugging until the pain was gone.

It's said that some people grow up too fast. In only two months, Rose Weasley and Albus Potter had done their fair share of life-threatening escapades, annoying Quidditch teammates, and lost friendships. But that's the great thing about a kitchen floor; it really puts things into perspective.

"What are our instructions?"

"Elder Malfoy has said to leave it here."

"What if he is taken?"

"Irrelevant. We have no purpose for him now."

Rose glanced up at the high, pitch black darkness of the rafters. There, but a squirming shadow, was Draco Malfoy, still struggling to fight the body bind (which, to Rose's credit, was perfectly executed.) She kept her wand aimed up at him, maintaining his flight.

As Albus Potter would describe the moment later – everything was quiet…until it wasn't.

One of the guards suddenly went berserk, whipping out a long, dark wand from his robes and pointing it directly at his fellow Freed Blood member. _"Stupefy!"_ cried the man, who suddenly sounded very familiar.

The guard flew a good ten feet before crashing into a stack of crates in the far corner of the station, knocking him completely unconscious.

Rose gasped, covering her mouth with both hands. As she did so, her wand clattered to the floor, and the charm was broken. Draco Malfoy came falling to the ground at an extremely high speed – faster and faster – down and down and down again –

Merely seconds before the wizard would meet his demise, the second guard pointed his wand and muttered, " _Wingardium Leviosa."_ In an instant, falling turned to flying, and the paralyzed ex-Death Eater was saved.

 _But…by whom?_

Slowly, Rose and Albus crept out of the shadows to survey the damage. Draco Malfoy was squirming mid-air, the body bind wearing off, and there in front of them…was the man.

Wordlessly, he lowered his wand, taking Draco with him until he was settled gently on the ground. Then, bending down, he knelt beside the strange coffin-shaped box and began slowly unlatching the sides. Rose and Albus looked on – too terrified and too curious to even blink.

The box opened, and there laid Scorpius Malfoy.

"Is he –?" Rose said, finding her voice. "Is he alive?"

"Yes," the all-too familiar voice answered. "But that's the least of my worries."

This time, Albus spoke. "What – What do you mean?"

The man reached up and pulled down his hood. Rose and Albus simultaneously did a double-take.

"Can you imagine the look on your mother's face when I tell her you two snuck out to go Death Eater hunting?" snapped an infuriated Ronald Weasley.

0o0o0

The ride to Malfoy Manor was – in a word – _interesting._

They drove the flying car, which Ron had originally used to get to Uncle Harry's and Aunt Ginny's, but Rose had been too terrified to use in their stakeout. Draco sat in the passenger's seat, as quiet as the dead, but constantly looking back to check on his son, unconscious and leaning against the window. Albus and Rose were cramped in the middle and left side, trying to avoid the gaze of everyone else in the car. To make matters worse, Ron apparently couldn't make up his mind as to whether he was in Auror-mode, Dad-mode, or…twelve year-old-mode.

"I've sent for back-up," he explained. "All they know is that I was patrolling King's Cross when I happened upon a member of Freed Blood dropping off an unconscious Scorpius in the middle of the night. As for the rest of the story, I'm hoping to get a firm grip on explanations before I report anything."

All three conscious passengers squirmed.

" _Rose –_ how could you do such a thing? I'm not surprised, though – you're too much like me – but you, _Albus?_ You're supposed to be the sane one! The one that grips her leash when I'm not around!"

"I'm sorry," Albus mumbled into his arms.

Ron continued, "Rose Ginevra Weasley – your mother is going to absolutely _furious_ with you –!" Genius struck. The ranting father came to a halt. "Unless, of course, we don't tell her –"

Rose held her breath.

"– who are we kidding? She probably already knows," Ron admitted, sighing angrily. "Thank God I had that urge to go out on a midnight ride or else you two would've been dead by now! To think what might've happened –"

Minutes passed before he launched into it again.

"But _really –_ if you're going to sneak out, why didn't you just take the car? I mean, you knew where I kept the keys and everything, Rosie!"

"I – I'm not that great of a driver," Rose admitted, utterly confused as to the moral of the story.

"Okay – then why these slow things?" he asked, referring to the two ancient broomsticks lying on the car floor. "When _I_ was about your age, your uncle Harry and I stole the car so we could catch up with the train in our second year –"

"You did _what?"_ Albus asked, gaping.

"Err – nothing. Nothing at all. Never mind that."

The rest of the ride was spent in excruciating silence. Scorpius slept on, curled up against the cool glass of the right window. Rose, who had taken the middle seat, couldn't help herself from watching him. His expression was utter contentment, as if nothing had gone on in the past month, as if Scorpius Malfoy had never gone missing. He still had his small mouth, big blue eyes, and a long, pale frame.

The one unsettling thing, however, was his forearm. It was like a crash – you try to look away, but the scene is so horrific that one just can't help his or herself from staring. In fresh, bloody wounds read:

 **BLOOD TRAITOR**

Rose Weasley was no stranger to these cold blood tattoos, having seen her own mother's as well as Uncle Harry's. But those two people had come to live with theirs, accepting it more as a battle scar than something to be ashamed of. This sleeping boy, however, would have to wake up and begin a battle of his one – one full of desperate explanations, making up of lost time, and the one that the entire wizarding community wanted to know, what had truly gone on in the Missing Month?

But for now, he wasn't a blood traitor or a missing child or a victim or even Rose Weasley's best friend. He was just a little boy who had fallen asleep on his way back home from the train station.

Little by little, the car lost altitude, landing with a crash before the tall, foreboding gates of Malfoy Manor. The air suddenly became even chillier than before. Stories became truths and truths materialized into stories.

"We're here," Ron announced, swallowing a lump in his throat and tearing his eyes off the metal gates. "You need help carrying him in?"

0o0o0

They had reached the door after an eternal walk from the front entrance. Scorpius remained asleep in his father's arms, and the box in Ron's. Albus and Rose trailed silently behind, avoiding the harsh looks of gargoyles and stone monstrosities, knowing that if they did, they might have to admit their fear.

Staring down the front double doors, Draco finally spoke in a small, formative tone.

"My father had paid me a visit, telling me that we could make a deal in exchange for Scorpius's life," he explained. "And so I gave him the most powerful weapon in the universe in return for my son's safety."

"Meaning?"

"Time."

Ron thought for a moment, then, eyes widening, whispered, "You mean –?"

"Yes," Draco admitted, looking down at his only son. "It was a terrible, horrible thing. I put the entire world at stake. I am well aware of the consequences to my actions, Weasley, and if you wish to arrest me now, I will not question you for a moment."

Ron Weasley stared the man dead in the eyes. "I'm a father, too, Malfoy."

That was answer enough.

"Of course," Ron added, "we will have some questioning to do. But I'll make sure that stays between you, me, Harry, and Kingsley. I know that isn't exactly the most secure secrecy pact in the world, but it's the best I can do."

Draco nodded. "Very well." He looked up at his previous archenemy and spoke the most foreign words in his vocabulary, "Thank you…Ron."

A strange, small smile grew on the Auror's face.

"You're welcome, Draco."

Minutes passed with the four of them staring in front of the door, not knowing what to do and not having a clue as to what to say.

"Would you…?" Draco began to ask the little girl and boy to his right. "Would you like to help me bring him to bed?" When the two nodded, he checked with the third. "Ron?"

The Auror nodded. "Fine with me."

Rose smiled brightly as Draco pulled the door open. Before stepping inside, she looked back and asked, "Are you coming, Dad?"

Ronald Weasley didn't need a time turner to look back at the past. All he had to do was look up at the tall mansion – its gargoyles and stone arches casting tall shadows in the night – and he knew his limitations.

"I'll wait here," he promised his daughter. "I won't take off without you."

Offering one last smile, Rose followed Albus and Draco inside.

As much as he hated to admit it, it was a living nightmare to come back to this place. Ghosts were everywhere, but no more so than Malfoy Manor. Ron Weasley sat on the steps and put his face in his hands, but nothing could drown out the screams. _Her_ screams.

Upstairs, two first years sat bedside, thanking God and fate and anything else they could think of that would've brought their friend safely home.

Downstairs, a mother and father were rejoicing their son's return through rib-cracking hugs and tears.

Miles away, a man sat in a dark room, only now realizing what it truly meant to be Lord of Time.


	30. Those You Can't Fool

_NINETEEN YEARS AGO_

"Draco?"

The blonde boy glanced up from his paper with sullen eyes. It had been a long week. But that wasn't saying much; as of late, that was every week. The entire wizarding community was turned upside down, desperately trying to salvage pieces of their lives before the war. But that was just Draco Malfoy's problem – there was no " _before the war."_ Life was a battle – not to be won – but to somehow survive.

So you can imagine his utter _joy_ when some fifth year confronted him minutes before his mother's hearing.

Intense brown eyes met a dull blue. "You are…?" droned the boy.

"Astoria," the girl replied, offering a small smile. When he only stared back at her blankly, she added, "Greengrass?"

" _Daphne's_ little sister, huh?" Draco realized, nodding. "That's right…you were at the Christmas party…two years ago, was it?"

Astoria shrugged. "Two years? Wow, that's right. _Two years."_

Draco nodded once more and referred back to his paper. Taking this as an invitation to sit, Astoria found herself beside the strange pale boy. It was the strangest thing – like he was a distant cousin or a step sibling that she had once known but since drifted away from. Making friends the last thought in her mind, she settled for making conversation.

"I'm guessing we're both here for the same reason?"

"I – _what?"_

"We're here for the same reason?"

"I doubt that," he snapped. He pointed towards the large double doors at the end of the long, emerald green hall. "Are your parents in there, too?"

Astoria was quiet for a second. Draco had almost settled back into his newspaper when she said quietly, "My father, actually. They're looking for possible Pureblood moles."

Draco, in the middle of turning a page, came to a halt. "Oh," he said simply. Swallowing, he added, "I see."

Feeling suddenly very out of place, Draco was sucked back into his news. Out of the corner of his eye, he got a better look at the girl sitting next to him. She had chestnut brown hair which fell in long curls to her shoulders. Matching that were her intense brown eyes, seemingly analyzing everything in her gaze. She had a thin mouth, long nose, and a small frame. But the strangest thing overall was her unnatural _insistence_ to bother him.

"What's the headline?" Astoria asked. She leaned over, reading aloud, "' _MALFOYS BROUGHT TO JUSTICE.'"_

"Do you have a problem?" Draco snapped, closing the paper and folding it in his lap. "Or possibly a mental disability of any kind?"

"Do you?"

A millennia of silent wars passed in a single instant.

"Celebrating a conviction?" she asked, unfazed.

Draco was hesitant to answer.

"I'm not carrying a Quick Quotes quill, if that's what you're worried about. It's a question, not an interrogation."

He sniffed importantly, continuing, "It's more like a finding. They've been looking for us since the Battle."

When she furrowed her brow and continued to stare at him with those big brown eyes, he explained: "We left sometime before the final duel. Father took us around the country for a while, staying in different locations until he was sure all of the Death Eaters had been snuffed out. But he forgot to look in the mirror."

"Ha. Personally, I think my family spends a little too much time looking in mirrors."

"Astoria Greengrass, I _really_ don't like you."

"The feeling's mutual, Mr. Malfoy. Permission to change the topic?"

Draco's lip twitched, but he held it back. "Fine."

"Are you going back next year?" she asked, staring him dead in the eye.

"No," he answered quickly. "…you?"

"Technically, I have two years left," she replied, deep in thought. "But on the other hand…I don't know. It's not like I _have_ to."

Draco let the smile pass, nodding his head. Sure, she was annoying and persistent and blunt…but somewhat…entertaining.

"Okay, my turn," Draco continued, raising an eyebrow, whether he meant to or not, "If your family's in there, then why are _you_ out here?"

"Great minds think alike," she quipped, grinning. "I'd take a quiet hallway over a crowded court room any day."

"It _was_ quiet…"

"It's not like I'd be much help anyway," she continued. "I walk in there, and all I become is some little 'victim of war' for the press to –"

"Don't get me started."

Just then, the double doors flew open, a small, mousy-looking man in formal wear standing beside them, his arms folded in a proper position.

"Draco Malfoy?" he asked in a squeaky voice. "They're ready to hear your testimony."

Draco sighed and folded up his paper. "For which one?" he asked, bored.

"Your mother, sir. Your father – well, you see – he's already been convicted, sir."

Jerking his head up to face the page, he snapped, " _What?"_

The page didn't know how to respond. "I – I'm sorry, sir. He was convicted at a separate hearing this morning. They've taken him to Azkaban. Your mother's in there alone. I thought you knew."

"No, I didn't," he said quietly, almost an admittance to himself. After a moment, he rubbed his temples and slicked his hair back with one hand. Adjusting his jacket, he stood and said to the man, "And I would suggest that you do your job next time and see that I do."

The poor page swallowed and mumbled, "Y-Yes, sir. I-I'll see you inside." Nodding once more, he power-walked towards the double doors, slamming them behind him.

At the sound of the doors, Draco fell back into his seat, his face in his hands. No one could see how he was feeling right now – doing so would mean weakness, exploitation. And the world had done a lot of that as of late

"Draco?" Astoria asked in a soft voice.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he muttered, sitting up and rubbing his temples once more. He bit his lip, continuing to mutter, "This isn't the end of it – they're going to need to bring him in for a proper trial, then maybe he can negotiate by giving names –"

"Well, they've taken care of that."

"Then – what?"

Astoria sighed. "Giving names? They have Potter this time. He and his friends have already given up nearly all the Death Eaters, it's just a matter of finding moles."

"Potter…" Draco mumbled, shaking his head. Suddenly, realization came over him. "But if they've already given names, then why is she….?" A small, almost unnoticeable smile grew on his face. The feeling was bittersweet. "Potter," he realized.

Finally, he stood, crumbling the newspaper into a ball and tossing it into a wastebasket nearby. "I should head inside. I'll let you know if I hear anything about your father's questioning."

"Thank you," Astoria told him, smiling. She stood and extended her hand. "Goodbye, Mr. Malfoy. It's been a pleasure."

Draco shook her hand. "Good luck. You're an interesting one, Miss Greengrass."

Astoria stared up at him with knowing eyes. Their shade of brown was suddenly more intriguing than he remembered.

"Likewise, Draco," she said. "Likewise."

0o0o0

 _PRESENT DAY_

"Draco?"

Blissful sleep was suddenly interrupted by a soft voice. Draco Malfoy sat up and rubbed his eyes, which were welcomed to unfamiliar surroundings.

Before him, his wife stood with her arms folded, chestnut curls hanging to her shoulders, with a disapproving expression on her face.

"Have you been out here all night?" Astoria asked condemningly, taking a seat beside her husband and placing a hand on his forehead.

Waving her off, Draco muttered, "I'm fine, I'm fine…" and got a better glimpse at the world around him. He was sprawled out on the lounge chair in the foyer. The night was close to ending, the sky a pure purple. He must've dozed off at some point…

"Draco," Astoria struggled to find the words, her eyebrows knitted together, fighting against a growing smile, "our son came back to us. Our _son_ is alive…I suppose I never…I had begun to think –" The terrible thought left as quickly as it had come. The brunette shook her head in retaliation and turned from her husband.

"What?" Draco asked gently.

"It doesn't matter now." She stood from the chair and turned to go.

Before she could take a second step, Draco reached out for her hand, stopping her in her tracks. "Astoria?" he asked. "What aren't you –?"

"I know what you did, Draco."

The sharpness and coldness of her voice shook him to his very core. No words came, nor did he encourage them to. All he could do was shift his gaze on the blazing fire before him, hoping the flames would singe his guilt.

"No. Look at me."

Fight-or-flight…Draco could do neither. Pushing pride and fear aside, he forced himself to stare into Astoria's ferocious eyes, which were an entirely different sort of fire that he would never want to meddle with.

Finally, he spoke in a small, deadened voice. "How?"

"You're able to hide a lot of things from the world, Draco, I've always known that, but sometimes I wonder if you bother to step back and take a look at the people you can't fool."

Eyes widening, Draco whispered, "You saw everything."

Astoria stifled a bitter laugh. "I didn't need to," she explained, "but I did, yes."

Draco gave her a quizzical look.

"That night…I heard what he told you…about being the 'master of time'…" she explained, shaking her head. "But I didn't say a word. I couldn't. Maybe I was a coward. Maybe so…but I couldn't risk it, I just…couldn't."

Draco stood, desperately reaching out to assure her in some way. "Astoria…" he whispered.

Taking a step back to avoid his grasp, she held up her hands and professed, "Our son is alive – I would never take that back, _ever –_ but I hope to God you know what you're doing."

With a final, hurt glance, Astoria looked back at Draco and added, "Weasley will be here soon to take you to see Kingsley – they'll be back for Rose in a bit."

"Listen to me –"

"You gave the most powerful _weapon_ in the universe to the angriest _man_ in the universe," she told him. "Scorpius is safe – but you have to stop him or –!"

"Or?"

Astoria stood tall, and straightening her robe, whispered, "Or I will."

And with a curt nod, she turned and walked back up the stairs. So much was left unsaid, and yet she had said more than she needed to. Draco Malfoy sat in the dark, thinking about a wide-eyed brunette and a boy with a newspaper, and wondering how these broken people even resembled them at all.

0o0o0

"Rose?"

A small voice pierced through the solidified darkness, reaching out to a lanky, red-haired girl who lay half-asleep in an armchair. Blinking, Rose Weasley sat upright and rubbed her eyes. Sitting on her lap was a note, reading:

 _We didn't want to wake you. Your dad and Malfoy went to speak with Kingsley, and they're going to drop me off on the way. But they'll be back for you, so don't freak out, Rosie._

The voice reached out again. "Rose?"

 _Who…?_ But she stopped her thoughts before they could continue any further. Of course she knew. How could she have forgotten?

"Scorp?" she whispered, walking up to his bedside. The last thing she could remember was sitting next to Albus, staring at the scar on Scorpius's arm…

It was still there. The bleeding had stopped – thank God – but the etched words still stood scarlet against the snow white of his skin.

 **BLOOD TRAITOR**

Tearing her eyes away from it, Rose tried to focus on the two blue eyes that shone through the darkness. "Scorpius?" she repeated.

Scorpius's voice was a hoarse whisper. "What –? How did –?" But the words just wouldn't come. Finally, he settled on, "What are you doing here?"

"Albus and I helped your parents settle you in. Must've fallen asleep." She looked out the window across the room. The sky was turning a pale pink, with silver stars still forcing themselves into visibility. "It'll be dawn soon," she whispered, her voice hallow.

At her strange tone, Scorpius managed, "Rose?"

Finally settling her gaze on the limp boy in the bed, she broke. Wrapping her arms tight around him and burying her head into his chest, Rose grinned as small tears slipped down her blushed cheeks. "I thought you were dead…my God, Scorpius, I thought you were dead…!"

Though he didn't know why, Scorpius found himself crying as well, holding his friend tighter. "It's okay, Rosie…I'm okay…"

She continued anyway, hiccupping between words, "I never told Albus…he kept saying that I should try to come to terms with it, but I really thought so all along…" She smiled even larger than before. "…but you're alive. You're alive, Scorpius!"

"Noted," he said, smiling and hoping to God that she couldn't tell he was crying. There was a long pause, as Rose continued to cry into his shoulder. "Rose?"

"It was my fault."

"No, it wasn't."

Another long pause followed.

"Do you remember…at King's Cross…?"

Scorpius found himself smiling at the memory. "Cart Girl," he remembered.

"It seems so long ago – but it wasn't, wasn't it?" Rose thought aloud. "Just a matter of months."

Scorpius nodded, his mind wandering and searching his memories, which were as scattered and broken as the shells on a beach. He wanted to tell her everything that had happened while he was gone, to tell her that they would find Lucius and everything would be as it was before. But if there's one thing you can't do to Rose Weasley, it's lie to her.

"I don't remember much," he explained quietly. "Just…pain. A lot of it. I remember him. I remember this." He referred to his arm. Rose tried not to look. "I remember…worrying that something had happened…that you two hadn't gotten out in time…"

Rose found herself smiling. "Quit being a bloody hero, Malfoy."

"Well, that's a first," Scorpius quipped, grinning back. But his was smaller, more forced. He silently begged that she wouldn't notice that it still hurt – a lot.

But she did. Of course she did.

"It's your arm, isn't it?" she asked worriedly. "I'll go get your mom –"

"Rose, Rose – it's okay. I'm _fine_."

She looked at him incredulously.

Scorpius tried another route. "Besides, since when have you played mom?" he joked. When her expression failed to change, he slumped back into bed, giving up. "Rose – just – promise me one thing."

"What?" she asked, sitting back down on the bed.

He looked her dead in the eyes, a strange coldness creeping in. "Don't go looking for him. Leave it to your dad. Your uncle. Trust me – this isn't our place." He squeezed her hand. " _Stay out of this._ Promise me."

Finally looking up at him, Rose smiled tiredly, her eyes still shining and her cheeks tear-stained.

"Scorp – it's a little late for that."

Scorpius nodded. She was right – they were in too deep. All they could do now is wait. For what, they didn't know.


End file.
